


Snark, How the Bells

by RoonilWazlibMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Diagon Alley, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Magical Plant, Post-War, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoonilWazlibMalfoy/pseuds/RoonilWazlibMalfoy
Summary: Severus Snape did not do Christmas. He ran a grotty little pub on Diagon Alley and he kept largely to himself. When Harry Potter stumbled into his pub, he began to realize that Christmas held a kind of magic all its own.orA Hall-snark Christmas story
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 31
Kudos: 231





	1. Throw Cares Away

**Author's Note:**

> I intended to write this story for the Wireless Festive Mini-Fest, but I was too late. And then I thought I could submit it to Snarry Christmas 2020, but I was too late. I present this fic to you, late but with a lot of love, to wish you all a Happy New Year. I think that it's a nice way to wrap up a year of fic writing for me. You'll find, if you've read my other works, a number of Easter Egg type references to the other things I've written this year, and I really hope you enjoy it.
> 
> It is based, very loosely, on Carol of the Bells. Comments are welcome and appreciated!

Bells rang out incessantly on Diagon Alley. Severus Snape pinched the bridge of his nose as he firmly closed the door of his pub. There weren't many patrons that night as most of the wizarding world was out in the street participating in the Christmas Festivities – festivities that Severus had no intention of attending. 

He glanced around the room, at the dust motes floating in the dim lighting and the wooden floor worn smooth from years of foot traffic. He loved this place. There was nothing else that he could imagine doing after all that he'd been through. This simple life was exactly what he needed and that was why he'd jumped on the opportunity to buy the pub with his Order of Merlin money when Nessie Hacklethroot had announced that she was selling. 

He had changed the name, of course. Brew Glory was a fitting nod to his former life, and the only nod he was really willing to give it. He didn't want to think much about his time as a teacher, a spy, a pawn. But he really was proud of that speech he'd always given the first years'. Just the right touch of drama and magic, it was one thing he didn't mind remembering. 

Heading back behind the bar, he settled down on a stool to watch his patrons. They were few, but they were interesting and they certainly made him feel better about himself. 

Mundungus Fletcher was in the corner trying to convince a couple of hags to go home with him; he would, assuredly, be unsuccessful, as he always was. Severus hoped they hexed him again. It had been a mess to clean up, but well worth it for the amusement.

Burvis and Bodhi Angleton were sitting at the far end of the bar, nursing their pints and gossiping like old men do. Severus was unsure if they were married or brothers and he really didn't care. They came in regularly and largely kept to themselves and for that he was grateful. 

Beyond that, the bar was empty and he found that he rather liked it that way. To be sure, there would be a small rush later, as the celebration on the street wound down and the other bars and pubs on Diagon Alley filled up. He would take that when it came, of course. The money was good when Diagon Alley had events like this. But he much preferred sitting here quietly with his little group of misfit regulars. He could easily understand why Aberforth had done it for so long in Hogsmeade. 

Suddenly the door swung open wide, bringing with it a gust of cool air and, once again, the tinkling of those infernal bells. Severus jumped up from his stool, ready to slam the door closed again, when he realized who had just walked through his door. 

Taking a moment to compose himself, he drew himself up to his full, admittedly diminutive, height, and felt his patented glare slide effortlessly into his face. "Potter," he intoned as he glided haughtily to the door and closed it firmly behind the Boy Who Lived.

"Sev'rus Snape!" he slurred happily, clearly drunk already. "I knew you'd be here!"

"This is my place of business, Potter," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "Where in Merlin's name else would I be?"

Potter stumbled across the room and settled down at the bar, in a seat just opposite of where Severus' stool was placed. He teetered a bit, his balance off, as he climbed onto the barstool, but he righted himself quickly enough. He smelled as if he'd fallen into a vat of firewhiskey. 

"Ginny broke up wi' me t'day," he said, ignoring Snape's rhetorical question altogether. 

Closing his eyes briefly to stave off his oncoming headache, Severus said, "What do you want to drink, Potter?"

"'Cause I'm too gaaay!" he said loudly, causing the hags to look up and snicker behind their warty hands.

Well. That was something. Severus swallowed and tried again. "What can I get for you, Potter?"

"Mmm… beans. No! Eggs!" he exclaimed.

"What do you want  _ to drink _ , Potter?" he said through clenched teeth. Salazar, he had forgotten how irritating the Chosen One could be. "I am not making you eggs."

Potter cocked his head and said, "Maybe you'd make some for me in the morning then." He gave an exaggerated flirty wink and promptly fell off the barstool.

Exasperated, Severus slowly made his way back around the bar. He really did not feel any rush to help Potter up, but it wouldn't do to have him die on the floor either. When he got there, he found him sprawled out on his back, a silly, stupid grin on his face.

"Hey, are you Gilderoy Lockhart? Because I'm feeling boneless," he said thickly, then giggled happily at his own terrible joke. 

Sighing deeply, Severus pulled him to his feet and wrapped an arm around his surprisingly thin waist. "Come, Potter," he said and began leading him to a booth where he'd be more secure than he was on a barstool. 

"You could at least get me dinner first," Harry said, still laughing.

Without another word, Severus settled him in to the booth and admonished in his firmest tone, "Stay here. I will return in a moment and if you have moved one centimeter, I will hex you, Chosen One or not."

Leaving Potter there did not seem like the best plan he'd ever had, but there was nothing else for it. He briefly considered calling out "The Burrow" and shoving him through the Floo, but if the youngest Weasley had indeed just broken up with him, that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Honestly, he wasn't certain who he could call for Potter at this point. All of his friendships, as far as Severus was aware, seemed to be tied up in the Weasleys and all of his family was dead. It seemed, he thought as he cracked a few eggs in a pan, that he was on his own here, at least until Potter sobered up. 

After dishing up the eggs, along with some bacon and several slices of toast, he added a large glass of water and a sober-up potion to the tray and carried it out of the small kitchen area. He was gratified to see that Potter hadn't moved, but was somewhat less pleased to see Burvis and Bodhi sitting across from him, cackling as he entertained them with some sort of nonsensical story that involved wild hand gestures and a lot of slurring. His green eyes were bright behind crooked spectacles and Severus thought, to his horror, that if you ignored the drunkenness Potter was rather beautiful. 

"Oi," Bodhi called out when he saw Severus approaching. "You've got yourself a nice young man here, Severus!"

Severus blanched as he set the tray down a little harder than intended; water splashed out of the glass and the dishes rattled. "He is not my young man," he insisted firmly. 

Burvis flashed him a knowing smirk and Bodhi's eyes twinkled in a way that felt all too familiar to Severus. It was disconcerting. "I suppose we'll see," Burvis said noncommittally. At that, they stood and bid Harry good night before returning to their place at the bar.

Severus sat down heavily across from Harry. This was going to be a long night and his patience was already wearing thin. "Eat your food, Potter. Then you will take this potion and go sleep it off on my sofa," he directed. "I will not have you stumbling out of here and coming to harm in the state you're in." 

Rather than looking affronted as he always had back at Hogwarts when he'd been given instructions, Harry beamed back at him. "You made me eggs," he said softly, sounding sentimental as only a Hufflepuff or a very drunken Gryffindor could. 

Severus rolled his eyes. "Hold yourself together, Potter. I made you what you requested," he said, knowing full well that he'd also done exactly what he'd told Harry he would not do. And when had he started calling him Harry, even in his mind? 

Shrugging, Harry tucked in without another word and Severus just sat there, watching him and thinking. He'd known that tonight, the first night of Christmas on Diagon Alley, would be stressful, but he had never once imagined that this would be a part of it. He felt almost as if he and Potter were in a little protective bubble. The bells weren't tinkling here, Mundungus was not making a nuisance of himself. He felt, somehow, a little less alone as he sat, watching Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, eating toast and eggs in his grotty little pub. 

"I'm done," Potter said, cutting into his thoughts. "Want me ta wash this?" he asked, standing unsteadily and holding up the plate.

"Of course not," Severus snapped. "Leave it there. Washing up is a part of my job, Potter."

"Well, I dunno!" Harry objected, laughing. "You always made me wash cauldrons when I got in trouble at school."

"Right," he replied flatly, grabbing the potion phial and leading Harry to the stairs. "You are not in trouble, Potter. You are drunk." The words, "We can discuss your punishment after you've sobered up," slipped from his mouth before he could even stop them and he found himself grateful, for the first time that night, that Potter was as inebriated as he was. Surely, he wouldn't remember that. 

"I'd like that," he mumbled after settling down on Severus' couch and downing the potion. His eyes drifted closed and Severus laid a thick green blanket over his sleeping form, then slipped his glasses off and laid them on the coffee table. Reaching out, he lightly stroked a thin finger over the jagged scar that marred that otherwise smooth forehead. He really was lovely, he thought, now that he could see him past the shadow of his parents. Straightening abruptly when he realized what he'd just been thinking, he turned to go back to work.

He was on the stairs none too soon. The pub door was swishing open as he closed the door to his flat, ushering in the beginning of his Christmas rush along with the tinkling chime of bells. From that point on, he had no more time for thought. His night was spent mixing drinks and pouring pints, clearing tables and charming dishes to wash themselves. 

The ringing bells punctuated his night, clear and bright each time the door opened. The more he heard of them, the sweeter they seemed to sound. They called out to him to throw his cares away, just this once, just for Christmas. 

Mundungus did, in fact, get hexed again, but his boils were less oozy this time, at least. Draco Malfoy popped in for a few minutes, greeting him warmly in a way that he'd have never done years ago. 

Beyond that, it was all routine, and he fell into a rhythm, just him, his pub, and the bells. Table by table, his patrons slowly began leaving, heading home to warm fires and warm beds. As the last one left, he locked the door behind them, extinguishing candles and looking forward to his own warm bed.

He walked through the darkened room, breathing in the waxy smell of smoke that was curling from the candles, and made his way back upstairs. It wasn't until he was ready to crawl into bed, his thin chest bare, his long legs covered in flannel, that he realized that Harry had, at some point, left the couch and climbed into his bed. 

"Throw cares away," he murmured and slipped into bed next to him. The weight and warmth of another person beside him lulled him quickly to sleep, the sound of silver bells filling his dreams.


	2. Meek and the Bold

"Mmm… Gin," Potter mumbled, wrapping an arm around Severus' waist and nuzzling against his shoulder.

Opening his dark eyes, Severus gazed over at Harry Potter who had moved entirely too close to him as they'd slept. All thoughts of chiming bells and casting away his cares were out the window as he felt the evidence of Potter's arousal for his girlfriend – ex-girlfriend, his mind unhelpfully supplied – pressed against his hip. "Merlin," he thought as he gently tried to extract himself from a deceptively strong embrace, "will the Potter family ever stop causing me problems?"

Once he'd wrangled himself free, he stood in his room bare-chested, the cool December sunlight streaming through the window. Upon looking back down at his bed, he saw that his attempts at subtlety had been ineffective at best. The Savior of the Wizarding World lay there looking up at him, his green eyes curious. 

"Snape?" he asked sleepily, squinting up at him.

Blinking slowly back at him, Severus wondered just how much Potter remembered from the previous night. Sober-up potions were known to knock a person out and to stave off the headache that generally came from sleeping off a night of drunkenness, but they did nothing to recover the memories of someone who was black-out drunk. 

"Yes," he said simply, not knowing what Potter was thinking and not willing to invade his privacy to find out. 

Potter looked blearily around the room, still squinting, when the reason for some of his confusion dawned on Snape. Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, he muttered "Accio Potter's glasses" and held out his hand as they zoomed into the room. Unfolding them, he gently placed them on Potter's face, then shifted uncomfortably as that now intense gaze raked over his chest before meeting his eyes once more. 

"How did I get here?" Potter asked finally. It was both gratifying and mildly disturbing that he didn't seem upset to be there in his old professor's bed. Was this normal for him? Had he been in Flitwick's bed the night before? 

Snape sighed. "You were stupidly wankered when you came to my pub last night proclaiming that you were too gay for Miss Weasley. I fed you, gave you a Sober-up potion, and settled you onto my sofa to sleep it off. I do not know when or why you got into my bed, but it didn't seem worth disturbing your sleep over."

"So, we didn't…?" Potter let the question hang in the air, his meaning utterly clear though his sentence went unfinished. 

"No, Potter," he replied flatly. "We did not."

"Huh," Harry grunted stupidly. Did he look… disappointed? Snape shook off that, frankly disturbing, thought. The season of good cheer must really be getting to him if thoughts like that were fluttering around in his head unattended. 

"Can I help you get home?" Snape asked pointedly, having had enough of Harry's dumb staring. He had things to do today! Well. He might have. Harry didn't know otherwise, at the very least.

"Oh!" Harry said, ignoring him, a habit that he clearly had not outgrown. "I talked to these old men last night. A couple! Boris and… Boris??" 

"Burvis and Bodhi," Severus rolled his eyes. 

"That's it!" Potter snapped his fingers as if he'd remembered on his own. The prat. "They said to treat you well because you deserve to have someone special in your life." 

"I wasn't sure that they were together," Severus replied, deciding that it was his turn to ignore the topic at hand. 

"Trust me, they are," Harry said earnestly. "Anyway, I think I told them about the time when Hermione set you on fire, so they probably don't think you deserve someone quite  _ this _ special anymore."

"I'm sorry. Hermione did what?" he asked darkly, suddenly feeling acutely aware of his state of undress. Having someone talk about setting him ablaze tended to have that effect. He walked to his bureau and pulled a t-shirt on at random. 

"You know," Potter said, waving it off casually. "In my first year during the Quidditch match. You were saving my life and she set you on fire." Severus stared back at him, dumbfounded. "I didn't know you liked The Ramones."

"Everyone likes The Ramones, you blithering idiot!" he said, suddenly feeling rather hurt, though he knew it was stupid of him. "Why did she set me on fire instead of Quirrell?" he asked, his voice sounding uncomfortably meek inside his head as he spoke.

Suddenly Potter was on his feet and his hands were on Severus' arms, gently rubbing up and down. His eyes were soft and open as Snape pushed him away and glowered at him; he was displeased to find that they were nearly the same height. If anything, Potter was a bit taller. 

"I'm sorry!" Harry said. "It's kind of a funny story. Well, maybe not if you're the one on fire in it. But we really thought you were, you know, the bad guy."

That was fair. He had worked very hard to present himself as the villain, if he was being honest. But he'd have thought, with all their super sleuthing, they'd have realized the reality of the situation. He supposed he really shouldn't hold something that happened nearly 20 years ago against a couple of former 11-year-olds. "Although," he thought, "that is something I'm inclined to do."

He sniffed dismissively. "Can I help you get home, Potter?" he asked again.

Potter laughed uncomfortably. "Well, erm, the thing is… I don't really have anywhere to go right now," he began. Snape looked back at him incredulously. "I was thinking maybe I'd just help you decorate for Christmas and then figure the rest out later."

He felt his mouth drop open and he knew that he was blinking stupidly. His fingers twitched for want of a cigarette, though he hadn't smoked in over 10 years. If he had been dumbfounded to hear about Granger's little pyromania problem at Hogwarts, he didn't know that there was a word for what he was feeling right now. 

Severus Snape did not do Christmas. 

Sure, the sound of chiming bells might have gotten to him a bit last night. But he'd been tired after dealing with a holiday rush of customers on top of a drunken Harry Potter. That momentary lapse in judgment did not mean he had any intention of, Merlin forbid, celebrating Christmas in any way. 

"What are you on about, Potter?" he finally choked out incredulously. 

Green eyes blinked angelically back at him. "You don't have any decorations up. It's Twelve Days of Christmas on Diagon Alley. You have to decorate. You're already a day late," he pointed out. "You'd have given me detention for being a minute late back at school. I think you're losing your touch." His tone was cheeky but his face a careful mask of innocence. 

"You brat," Snape fired back, but his heart wasn't really in it. He was finding it increasingly difficult to feel anything negative toward a Potter who was so obviously avoiding some things in his life. "There is a big difference between learning practical skills at school and putting up some garish ornamentation for a holiday I have no interest in."

Taking a step backward, Potter studied him critically. "I don't know, Snape," he shrugged. "I haven't brewed a potion in ages, but I decorate for Christmas every year. I'm not sure you're the best judge of what's practical."

Severus sighed and walked back to his bureau without a word. He had a decision to make and he was not doing it in his pajamas. If Potter wanted to ogle his bony arse while he changed, let him. 

He grabbed a pair of black jeans and dug around for a pair of orange socks with dancing potion bottles on them. They'd been a gift from Dumbledore years ago and he'd never worn them before, but at this point, he'd do what he could to keep the reckless Gryffindor occupying his bedroom on his toes. Plain black socks be damned. He slipped the bright socks on his pale feet, surprised to find that the old man's cushioning charms were still active after all this time. Sending up a silent wave of gratitude to Dumbledore, wherever he was now, he pulled his pajama bottoms off and his softly worn, but rather tight, jeans on.

He could feel Harry's eyes on him as he dressed, but he ignored the feeling unto Harry spoke. "You didn't put any pants on," he said, sounding for all the world as if he needed a drink. 

Severus' only answer was to turn and give him a wicked smirk until he looked away sheepishly.

"Now," Severus began, slipping his boots on over the ridiculous-looking socks. "Assuming I'm willing to go along with your silly notions, where do you propose I acquire Christmas decorations from? I am not going to muggle London and I refuse to go into Diagon Alley for something so trivial." His tone was haughty and he knew it. As far as he could tell, he'd just cut off any avenue that Potter could possibly have for bringing Christmas into his dingy little pub. 

He looked thoughtful for a moment and Severus noticed a few strands of grey hair mingled into the shaggy black around his temples. Not that Severus didn't have a few greys himself, but he was 20 years Potter's senior. He must really have something to escape in his life if it's turning him grey so prematurely, he thought. His mind's ramblings were cut off, though, when Potter finally spoke.

"I've got some things that'll be perfect!" he exclaimed. "If," he hesitated then. "If you could come back to Grimmauld with me, I could give you the decorations and get my own stuff out of there too." He sounded so hopeful and Severus was utterly baffled.

"Can you not go into your home by yourself, you nitwitted boy?" he asked harshly. "You're, what, 32 years old? I'd think you could handle an attic filled with your own things." He immediately regretted his strong tone as Harry's face fell, but there was nothing to be done for it. He should have known that Severus Snape was not a nice man. 

"Well, it's just…" his eyes darted around the room, avoiding Severus' gaze, "Ginny's there," he finished with a shrug, not elaborating at all. His face spoke volumes though, and Snape immediately latched into his meaning.

"What did she do to you?" he asked darkly. 

"No, nothing," Harry insisted, laughing nervously. "I just… she's disappointed in me. I'm not really ready to face her alone again. You saw how I ended up last time I did that."

Severus drew his mouth into a thin line. Again, his fingers twitched. "Very well, Potter. I will accompany you to get your things. Then you will go to muggle London and buy me a pack – no, three packs – of cigarettes," he said, feeling as though he'd gotten the worse end of the deal by far. He was getting an intrusive Potter and the revival of a very bad habit. He wondered idly how much worse his day could get, then decided it was best not to consider it. 

Harry grinned brightly. "I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't," he said flatly. "I've a feeling that I need to start."

"I'll buy you four packs then, just to be on the safe side," Harry laughed as he slipped his trainers on. "Are you ready?"

Snape slipped on a denim jacket then nodded hesitantly. 

Stepping closer, Potter held his arm tightly. "No time like the present," he said, sounding like a man heading to his own imminent demise. A familiar hooking sensation gripped Snape's stomach and he found himself standing with Potter on the stoop of 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Just… be quiet at first. You know?" Harry whispered as he opened the door. 

"It may have been some years, Potter, but I have been here before," he muttered as he followed Harry inside.

Grimmauld Place was nothing like he remembered, though. It was warm and homey, all evidence of its former "glory" was gone. The entryway was welcoming, filled with pictures of Harry's friends and carpeted in a rich red color that felt soft beneath Severus' feet as he slipped his boots off and placed them next to Harry's trainers.

"No, the portrait is gone, thank Merlin. It's just…" 

Harry's words were cut off as a feminine voice, different than the one he'd expected but harsh nevertheless, called out, "Is that you, Harry? Where the hell have you been?!" Ginny Weasley walked in the room, her red hair shining and her face tight. "Oh!" she exclaimed, obviously startled. "Professor Snape. I didn't know you were here."

"Obviously," Severus drawled, rolling his dark eyes. All of the Weasleys, save, perhaps, Percy, had always been insufferable. 

Without another word to him, she approached Harry, hissing at him in a low tone, but not so low that Severus couldn't hear. Despite Harry's claims that she'd done nothing to him, he couldn't help but wonder. 

"So, the minute we had a problem you went out and shagged your old teacher?? He's old enough to be your father, you know." Her words dripped with disgust. 

"We didn't have a problem, Gin," Harry said patiently. "You broke up with me. And I didn't shag him. I just stayed at his flat because I was wasted." Severus noted that he didn't mention the fact that they  _ had _ slept in the same bed. 

"I didn't mean I really wanted to break up, Harry," she said softly, hurt filling her voice and tears springing to her brown eyes. 

Running a hand through her ginger hair, he then cupped her cheek. "No, Gin," he said, "you were right. I do need to figure some things out. Neither of us are happy like this. You can stay here as long as you want, of course. I'm just going to get some clothes and things."

Her watery brown eyes searched his face for a moment before she gave a harsh sounding cry and ran off, disappearing into the depths of the large house. Severus acutely felt that he should not be here, bearing witness to such an intensely personal scene, but there was nothing to be done for it now. He merely stood frozen, his brightly coloured socks looking extra harsh against the red carpet.

Giving a deep sigh, Harry said, "Sorry about that. I never quite know what to expect from her."

Severus snorted. "I never quite know what to expect from anyone."

Harry smiled back at him and, for the first time, Severus could really see why people loved Harry Potter. He may be sassy, but he truly was a gentle accepting creature. "Come on, then. I'll just grab some essentials and then we'll find you all the creepy Christmas decor your dark little heart desires," he teased.

"My dark little heart desires precisely zero Christmas decor, Potter," he replied, following him through the house. "If you'll recall, it is you who wants that for me." He couldn't deny feeling a morbid sense of curiosity, though. Creepy Christmas decorations did sound a bit promising. He could imagine all of his patrons who'd ever requested that he decorate regretting it for years in the future if he made it disturbing enough. 

"True," Harry laughed. "It'll be good for you though." 

They had reached what was clearly Harry's bedroom by that point, and Severus lingered awkwardly at the doorway, having no desire to intrude even more than he'd already done, no matter how unwilling he'd been. The irony of not wanting to intrude after Potter had crept into his bed last night was not lost on him, but the feeling remained nevertheless. 

"Come on in," Harry called after a moment. "It won't take long." Reluctantly, Severus entered to find Potter shoving brightly colored pants into a worn leather bag. The room was neater than he'd expect from Potter, but more rugged than he'd expect from Ginevra Weasley. It was all dark wood and deep blues, not a floral print in sight. Severus approved, not that he had any right to. 

"Can I… assist you?" he asked, feeling emboldened by Harry's casual acceptance of his presence. 

"That'd be great, actually!" he said, showing Severus which drawers were his before moving into the en suite to gather his toiletries. Severus shuddered as he gazed into the leather bag at what had already been packed, quickly waving his wand to set it all to neatly refold itself before he got to work on packing the remaining drawers of clothing.

"I must confess," he called out as he packed, "I am surprised at how nice your home looks. It was nothing like this when I was last here."

Chuckling, Harry called back, "This is the first house I did. It's what turned me on to the idea of decorating in the first place."

Decorating? Severus would be the first to admit that he paid little attention to the Prophet or the greater wizarding world at all, so he shouldn't have been surprised that he didn't know what Potter had been up to all these years, but somehow he was.

"I didn't realize that's what you'd been doing," he said. 

"I'm not surprised," Harry said, walking back into the room with a smaller leather bag in tow. "You don't strike me as someone who seeks out interior decorators very often." His tone was teasing and friendly, not at all like most of his former students responded to him even though it had been many years since he'd been in that role. 

"True," he agreed. After seeing what Harry'd done with Grimmauld Place, though, he had to admit that he was a bit intrigued to imagine what he could do with Brew Glory. Perhaps it could be more of a rustic destination spot and less of a hole-in-the-wall pub. He wondered if he'd even want that, or if it was just more time spent with this cheerful, easy-going man that he'd prefer. 

"Oh, you did a much better job with that than I would have," Harry exclaimed, observing Severus' tidy charm work. It seemed that, while he may have inherited his mother's talent for charm work on larger things, he lacked the finesse for more menial intricate tasks. "Anyway, I've been working on Malfoy Manor for the past few weeks. Just finished up yesterday, actually. That's what has Ginny in such a snit this time, I think." He looked pensive. 

"Why would completing a big job be upsetting to her?" Severus wondered aloud, baffled. He could understand it more if Potter had been lacking for work.

Harry shuddered lightly. "She somehow got it into her head… well, I'm not sure exactly what she was thinking. That I was fucking Draco, maybe? Or Lucius? Or both??" He shrugged. "I wasn't."

Severus burst out laughing at that, unable to hold it in. "I cannot imagine Narcissa allowing Lucius any such freedom, even if he desired it," he said, still chuckling. It was no secret that, especially since the war, she was the one who wore the pants in that household. Draco on the other hand… Severus knew where Draco's tastes lie and he couldn't imagine him being adverse to bagging the Chosen One.

"Even if they had wanted it, I wouldn't have done that to Ginny," Harry said easily. "Things weren't great for us and she might be right about my… preferences. But I wouldn't cheat on her."

Severus could readily agree with that statement. Potter was far too noble for something so common as an affair, especially with anyone as demanding as a Malfoy. No Malfoy would settle for taking second place to anyone, least of all a Weasley. He remembered Draco popping into the pub the previous night and wondered, as he packed, if he was interested. 

He finished emptying the drawers into Harry's luggage and closed the bag up neatly, handing it to him to shrink and carry with him. Then, following him, they headed out of the bedroom and into the attic.

The attic was, for all intents and purposes, the exact jumble of madness that Severus had been expecting from the rest of the house. Pockets of Dark Magic hid here and there, calling out to him in their blackness. Boxes and chests full of bizarre detritus covered every shelf and nearly every inch of the floor. Random large feathers were settled on the eaves, caked with dust.

"It's a bit of a mess," Harry said apologetically. "But I know just what you need." He sounded confident and Severus was inclined to trust him on that. Decorating was his thing, it seemed. As Harry began wading through the junk, Severus took a moment to think about the strangeness of what was happening. Why had he even agreed to this? Why was he going along with it so readily? 

His thoughts stopped short as Harry, beaming, held up a collection of severed house elf heads, all bearing tiny Christmas hats. "Is this the kind of aesthetic you're going for?" he asked.

Severus wrinkled his large nose. "Potter, that is positively disturbing." He thought for a moment. "Yes, I think that will do." 

They gathered all manner of utterly horrid decorations that had, presumably, once been hung proudly in the Black family's ancestral home. He was certain they'd fit his grotty little pub better and he took a sort of obscene pleasure in the thought of publicly displaying all of the things that Sirius Black would have hated so much. Severus was surprised by how well Potter knew where everything was at, in spite of the cluttered appearance of the attic. They'd finished packing and shrinking it all within a few short hours and were back on their way to Brew Glory well before lunch time.

It was a good thing, too. Severus tried to open up for lunch most days, especially during the holiday rush, and if he didn't want Harry to be working around his patrons, sooner was better. Not only that, but the quicker they left Grimmauld, the less likely they'd be to run into Ginevra again. Somehow, though he was over 50 years old, the harsh tones of an angry redhead still filled him with an indescribable nauseous kind of feeling.

Potter, for his part, seemed largely unaffected by her or by anything else, for that matter. He was cheerful and easygoing, perfectly accepting of the quirks and eccentricities of those around him – and Snape had a fair few of them – but not not particularly having any himself. Severus was left wondering when the other shoe would drop, when he'd admit to whatever it was that was driving him away from his usual life. 

Based on the Weasley girl's suspicions and the amount of alcohol Potter had imbibed the previous night, he was bound to have something more than trivialities and thoughts on fine decor bouncing around in his brain. More and more with each moment, Severus found that he wanted to crack those secrets wide open, to peer at them, to taste them. 

Whatever his feelings had been, he'd never been meek where a Potter was concerned. 


	3. Joyful Ring

"Could we just walk down Diagon on the way back to the pub?" Harry pleaded. "I want to see what the other shops have done to decorate."

"I'd think you'd have looked your fill last night," Severus replied sarcastically. 

"Oi! I was totally pissed!" Potter protested. 

"If the sights drove you to drinking, they mustn't be terribly good," he observed, but he agreed anyway. What was it about Potter that made him want to agree with anything he suggested? Was it the youthful gleam in those bright eyes, or the dusting of grey in that black mane that made him feel compelled to give in? Or maybe it was some deeper quality, an openness, a sense of wonder. Something Severus had never really experienced firsthand before and having it directed at him left him feeling wild and heady.

"Oh, one mo'!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, then spun and Apparated away with a pop, leaving Severus standing on the far end of Diagon Alley with his pockets full of eclectic Christmas joy and his hands full of festive elf heads, since they'd decided that those might not hold up well if shrunken, leaving it to Severus to carry them openly.

He looked around warily. Shoppers in brightly colored scarves were already beginning to clog the streets, parcels and bags filling their hands. A few flakes of snow drifted down from the bright grey sky, dusting Severus' hair and shoulders with flecks of white. He wondered where on earth Harry had gone and how long he should wait for him before he dropped the elf heads where he stood and went back to the pub where he belonged. 

Thankfully, it took less than five minutes for Harry to pop back into existence beside him, four packs of menthol cigarettes in his hands. "I got the minty ones," he said breathlessly, grinning wide. "Seemed more cheery." Severus rolled his eyes but accepted them. 

They made their way down Diagon Alley then, but at a painfully slow pace because Harry felt the need to point out every wreath adorning a door, every window display of toys and lights. All of it looked the same to Severus, if he was being honest, but at some point, Potter had slipped his hand into the crook of his elbow, holding on gently as if they were friends or lovers on a casual Christmas stroll, so he quietly went along with it. The warm weight of Potter's hand felt nice, not that he'd admit that out loud. It gave him the abstract feeling that he somehow belonged. 

The decorations may have all looked the same to Snape, but the bells stood out in stark relief. They were everywhere: on lampposts and doors, some merchants wore small ones on necklaces or bracelets. The Weasley twins, standing at the door of their shop and happily greeting customers, wore bells on their shoes. Everywhere they went, the joyful tinkling song of the bells rang out, singing their own special carol. And for the first time in his life, Severus could sense a certain spark, a certain wild magic, that Christmas brought to the people. The bells rang on without end, connecting them all, filling him with something like hope, something like joy. 

Was this why Potter had wanted to walk this way? 

The elf heads grinned up at him from their box and Potter's hand was soft on his arm. Christmas was in the air and no one looked at them askance. It wasn't at all what he'd expected from such trivial frivolity. It was something more. 

When they arrived at the door of Brew Glory, Severus could see why Harry, with his artist's eye, had wanted to decorate. The pub felt drab and gloomy after the bright cheer of the rest of the street. It didn't look rustic, as Severus had always thought; it looked sad, the dark wooden door, the dingy windows.

He glanced over at Harry as they approached his door and Harry smiled softly back at him. He knew, somehow, what was on Severus' mind.

"We'll have you fitting in in no time," he said with a wink. 

Harry took the box of heads so that Severus could open the door and they entered the cold, gloomy room. It was almost embarrassing, Severus thought, to feel so wrung out after a simple walk through Christmas hell. Christmas was not his thing, not at all. But one look at Harry made him think that… perhaps it could be. 

From the moment they walked in and Severus spelled on the lights, Harry was looking around with an appraising eye. The box of heads was dropped on a table and Severus began unloading his pockets, handing all of the strange looking boxes to Harry, then opening up a pack of cigarettes. 

Walking around behind the bar, Severus sat in his usual stool and, flicking his wand, lit a one. He might be somewhat more open to the idea of decorating now, but he had no intention of assisting Potter with it. This was his area of expertise after all. He drew in a breath of cold minty smoke and let it out, the rush of nicotine making his head buzz a bit after all this time. Harry unpacked and resized the assortment of odd items that Severus had approved, the muscles in his back flexing as he began setting things up. 

As his ashtray began to fill up, so did his mind. He was still completely baffled as to what he was doing with Harry bloody Potter, but the more he thought about it, the less he really cared. If Potter wanted to sink to the gutter for a time, who was Severus Snape to stop him? The fact is, Potter looked good. Too good, in fact, for someone like him, with his big nose and his greasy hair and his lackluster little pub with its five regular patrons. Potter was too good, even, for Ginevra Weasley, though she didn't see it. Harry Potter was the most noble, annoying, lovely, insufferable man he'd ever come across, and that was saying something considering the fact that he'd known Albus Dumbledore. 

After a time, he set a large pot of stew cooking on the little stove in the back and put several loaves of bread in the warmer. The pub was shaping up beautifully under Harry's sharp eye for detail. He decorated the way he'd always played Quidditch back at Hogwarts, with a single-minded passion and a seemingly natural expertise. 

When he came out of the kitchen, he found Potter standing in the middle of the room, a bright satisfied smile on his face. Severus noted that he had dimples; he'd never noticed them before. 

"What do you think?" Harry asked, his voice both uncharacteristically shy and filled with hope.

What could Severus even say? There was a dark green evergreen tree standing in the front window, glowing with eerie red fairy lights and humming with the movements of hundreds of charmed bats that, he was sure, would only get more active as the sun went down. Every table held a few sprigs of greenery and holly berries nestled among dark grey candles that somehow managed to be cheery despite their colour. His mantle, too, held more dark greenery, along with a neat row of nutcrackers of varying heights, each with a shiny black jacket and a sharp-looking silver saber. House elf heads in gay apparel hung at regularly spaced intervals around the room, their macabre visages somehow lending warmth to the room – he supposed it must be the hats. Even the front door was decorated, not with a wreath, but with the skull of a reindeer, its antlers wrapped in holly and ivy.

And everywhere there were bells. Hanging from the tree, softly tinkling as the bats moved, nestled among the greenery on the tables. Nutcrackers held bells in their little wooden hands and bells hung in a neat row along the length of the bar. All were silver and soft and perfect. 

Everything was perfect. 

"I was going for a cross between creepy and warm," Harry said, his smile softening as he looked at Severus. "And I know you liked the bells."

"You did well," Snape choked out softly, rolling his eyes as Harry's smile grew wider. It was honestly perfect, as if Potter had looked directly into his brain and plucked out the ideas he wanted to use, but he wasn't about to offer that much praise. 

He looked into Harry's green eyes and if their gaze lingered a little too long, neither was about to mention it. After a moment Harry shrugged. "I'll just go put my stuff upstairs," he said and Severus stopped short.

"Are you staying here?" he asked, his voice sounding a little too high pitched. It wasn't that he objected, exactly. It was more that he didn't object but he felt like he should. 

"Yep," Potter replied, popping his lips slightly on the p. "I've got nowhere to go and no jobs lined up. Plus I think you need someone to look after you."

Merlin. Potter and his saving people thing. "I am 53 years old, Potter. I'm quite certain that I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"If you say so," Harry called, heading up the stairs, ignoring Severus' dark glare. 

Severus sighed. If there was one thing Potter had always been good at, it was ignoring Snape and other dangerous men. There was nothing for it, though. He had a pub to open. 

🔔🎄🔔🎄🔔

Something about the decorations lent a festive air to the normally dull bar. The bells that had been ringing in Severus' head the previous night were even more pronounced now that they were coming from inside the house. His customers noticed the difference immediately, too.

"Ay, Snape! I didn't know you had it in you!" Mundungus exclaimed, walking immediately to the mantle to look over the collection of nutcrackers. 

Severus immediately sent a stinging hex at him. "Hands to yourself, Fletcher!" he barked. He had no intention of letting Mundungus' sticky fingers taint Harry's creative genius. 

"When's the party?" Bodhi asked when he and Burvis showed up for the night hand in hand. Upon looking, Severus was unsure how he'd ever missed the fact that they were a couple. They weren't exactly hiding it. 

"I have no intention of hosting a party of any sort," he said dryly.

"Ah, but you didn't intend on decorating either," Burvis added unhelpfully. "That young man of yours is good for you. I'm sure he wants to have a party."

Severus narrowed his eyes, but there really wasn't any heat behind his expression.  _ I must be going soft _ he thought. It had barely taken 24 hours for Potter to worm his way into Severus' life. "He isn't my young man," he said perfunctorily. He decided not to think about the fact that there might be some small part of him who wouldn't mind it if he was. 

It really didn't matter anyway. He had not seen hide nor hair of Harry since he'd gone upstairs just before lunch and could only assume he'd apparated out without him noticing. The pub was honestly busier than it had ever been and he really didn't have much time to think about it. 

Clearly the decorations were a hit though, so Harry had made his presence known without ever showing his face. Severus quickly lost track of how many times someone told him they'd mainly come in because of the skull on the door or to look at the bats in the tree.

He wasn't complaining. Far from it. Staying busy when his head was full of jumbled thoughts and chiming bells was a blessing on several levels. The money was good and he was too active to stop and think about things. 

After the night wound down, though, it was a different story. Mundungus managed to actually leave the pub with the hags he'd been after for so long. That was something Severus absolutely did not want to think about. 

Bodhi gave him a wink as he left, his arm wrapped casually around Burvis' waist. "Close it up, Snape. Your man is waiting!" he called as they closed the door behind them, not even pausing to see the roll of Severus' dark eyes. 

It left him wondering, though. Was Harry upstairs? Was he waiting for him? Did he even want him to be? 

There were carolers on the street as he wiped down the tables and set the dishes to scrubbing. Normally, he'd turn his own music on to drown out the sound, but everything felt different now, with the bright but fitting decorations in his pub, with thoughts of a person who was absolutely not  _ his _ young man on his mind. He hummed along with Good King Wenceslas as he extinguished the lights and bid the bats good night. 

And as he put his foot tentatively on the first step, not knowing what, if anything, was waiting for him in his flat, he could still hear the faint music. "Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells…"

"Indeed," he said to no one, trailing his fingers along the bells on his banister, causing them to ring out softly as he made his way home.


	4. Words of Good Cheer

When Severus walked into his flat, he felt less like himself than he had in 20 years. It was true that his life had grown flat and stale in the absence of conflict, but he generally preferred it that way. There was nothing to hurt him in his own little corner of the world. There was plenty to irritate him, but that was a part of life that he had long ago accepted out of necessity. He'd have died from sheer annoyance otherwise. 

But as he stepped inside, the magic of bells and holiday spirit still filling his head, to find Potter sitting on his couch, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, drawing in a sketchbook in the firelight, he knew that this could hurt him. Potter, of all people, could destroy him if he wanted to. And he could likely destroy Potter right back. It had taken a mere 24 hours for him to worm his way under Severus' skin, burrowing into his brain and cracking open long abandoned affections. He felt a flash of solidarity with Ginevra Weasley as he looked at the grey hair peppering Harry's temples; loving someone to the point of destruction was utterly and tragically relatable to him. 

"Oh, you're home!" Harry said, looking up suddenly and pushing his glasses up his nose. He smiled at Severus, his white teeth flashing happily, and Severus was filled with the most surreal feeling. Never before had someone been there to greet him when he got home, never had anyone seemed pleased to see him. 

"Obviously," Severus intoned. "And you are in my home as well." He was grasping for some sense of normality, some firm footing to establish that he was the mean ugly potions master and Potter was a thorn in his side. It didn't feel right. 

"I told you I would be," Harry laughed. "There's nowhere else I want to be." 

Snape's mouth tightened as he closed the door behind him, but he said nothing, just made his way to the bedroom to put on more comfortable clothes. Perhaps Potter had been right that he should have put on pants, he thought.

"Did you eat? I saved some dinner for you, just in case?" Potter called from the living room.

He stopped short. That was certainly unexpected although, considering the fever dream that he'd been living for the past day, he supposed it wasn't any stranger than anything else. Bare-chested, he popped his head out of the bedroom and asked sharply, "Did you cook, Potter?"

Shrugging sheepishly, he said, "Maybe a bit. I didn't want to bother you again."

Severus studied him for a moment, his lips pressed together. "You are full of surprises," he said finally. "I'm getting in the bath," though he'd only just decided to do so at that very moment. "I'll eat afterward."

He absolutely did not respond to Harry's answering grin. That grin, of course, did not stay with him as he filled the tub with water and his own blend of essential oils, as he undressed, as he lowered himself into steamy water, hissing slightly as the water touched his tender bits. He'd have to put some salve on them before he got dressed. And he certainly did not feel grateful at all that his crotch was too chafed and sore to do anything with at the moment, because there was nothing to be interested in here. Nothing at all.

Sinking down, he submerged even his head in the thyme and eucalyptus scented water and lay there thinking. What was Christmas anyway? What was the point of it and why was it affecting him now? He had no interest in muggle deities. He despised the cold. He couldn't stand falsely cheerful people and he refused to entertain the idea that his subtle change of heart had anything to do with the man sitting in his living room, a man whose cheer was, miraculously, not at all false from what he could tell. 

Spluttering and gasping for breath, he finally emerged. Who was he kidding? Severus had always prided himself on being honest in his own mind, even when he could not be honest with anyone else. He knew that he was greasy and foul-tempered and ugly, his teeth were crooked and his nose was even worse just for its prominence. He knew that he was intelligent and had impeccable taste in music. And he knew – damn it all – that he was a man in his fifties with what amounted to a school-boy crush on the Savior of the Wizarding World. A crush based on a lifetime of annoyance and a single day of positive interaction. There was no use trying to hide from himself. Hell, he'd just spent a day abusing his cock with form-fitting denim just for the sake of getting a rise out of Potter, and that was before he'd even spent the day with him. 

After a perfunctory scrubbing of his hair and body, he climbed out of the bath, more confused and frustrated than ever. He gently rubbed salve over his angry nether regions, grateful, not for the first time, that he was more than capable of brewing his own potions. His had always been better than anyone else's and he trusted himself more than he would ever dream of trusting someone else. After putting on a pair of loose soft pajama bottoms and a long sleeved t-shirt, he decided to delay the inevitable even further by painting his toenails a rich red which had nothing to do with either Christmas or Gryffindor, thanks everso. Soon enough, though, he ran out of excuses and was forced to go back into his living room to face Potter. His hair, still damp, hung around his shoulders, wetting his shirt, but he paid it no mind. 

Potter, it seemed, had laid his sketchbook aside and was quietly dozing on the couch, his head tipped back and his glasses pushed up crookedly atop his messy head. Snape tried to sneak past him to the kitchen – he was feeling rather hungry – but as soon as he had taken a few steps, Potter jolted awake, his hand flying to his wand as he looked wildly around.

"Oh, it's you," he said, his face softening. "Sorry, I still get jumpy sometimes." His tone was heavily apologetic and Severus did not understand. Who, that had gone through what they had, would not be skittish on occasion, even after all this time? 

"Do not worry yourself over it, Potter," he waved him off tiredly. "You said there was food?"

Jumping up, he pushed his glasses back down over his eyes and blinked owlishly for a moment. "There is!" he exclaimed, bustling over to the tiny kitchen. "It's just spag bol. I wasn't sure what you liked."

"That will be fine, Potter. You needn't have troubled yourself at all," he said, sitting down at the little table as Harry lowered a plate in front of him and took the only other chair in the room. "Thank you," he said, looking into those green eyes. It was not often that anyone did anything for him; his gratitude was sincere. 

"Oh, it's nothing," Harry said dismissively. "I'm used to doing all the cooking anyway." 

He watched happily as Snape tucked in, moaning involuntarily at his first bite of spaghetti bolognaise. "This is very good," he said truthfully. 

Harry grinned. "Good enough for you to let me decorate your flat?" he asked.

Lowering his fork, Severus gazed back at him with narrowed eyes. "What are you running from, Potter?" he asked in a low tone. "Do not lie to me. I'm not saying no. Not yet at any rate. But I want to know what is going on with you that you'd feel the need to run to your homely old professor instead of doing literally anything other than that. I'd think I would be last on your list of escapism fantasies."

His face fell and he dropped his gaze to the table, his hands fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves. "I guess," he began, "I guess I'm running from my whole stupid life." He shrugged then looked up again, holding Severus' eyes. "You're not my last choice though. You're my first choice."

"What?" Snape asked flatly, utterly baffled. Not knowing what else to do, he took another bite, anything to stop him from gaping stupidly at Potter. 

Harry shifted in his seat. "I mean, you always took care of me. You make me feel safe. It's not really a big surprise that I ended up with you when I was drunk and lost," he said. "And you're not homely, you know. Not to me. I've been thinking about you for years."

Choosing to ignore that statement, Severus pressed on. "What is it in your life that you feel the need to run from?" he asked. "You've never struck me as the type to run from your problems."

Laughing bitterly, Harry said, "I'm not. Not really. But this has been going on for so long. I don't know what else to do." He looked so sad that Severus felt the insane urge to gather him in his arms. "When I said I didn't have anywhere else to go, I meant it. She… I mean, it's not like she meant it," he rushed to say, "but Gin, she kind of makes me feel separated from all of my friends." He smiled sadly. 

Severus saw red. "Do you mean to tell me that she has kept you away from the people who care for you?" he demanded.

"No, no!" Harry objected, dropping his head into his hands. "I'm saying this all wrong. It's like… she didn't want me running to her brother with our problems, you know? And that's totally fair. It's just hard. All my friends are her friends or her family. And she'd get jealous if I spent a lot of time with anyone new, especially men." He looked small and lost across the table.

Severus finished his food, saying nothing else until he'd placed his plate in the sink and summoned his cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. Lighting one, he finally said, "Your hair's going grey, Potter."

Harry huffed out a laugh. "So's yours! Is that really all you have to say right now?" 

Drawing on his cigarette, he savoured the flavour before saying, "I'm merely pointing out that you seem to be stressed. I am 20 years your senior." 

"Yeah, well, it makes sense that  _ we'd _ be stressed, doesn't it?" He shifted moodily and Severus saw a hint of the angry defiant boy he'd once been. 

Severus sighed and tapped his cigarette in the ashtray. "Not anymore, Potter. There is no need for it. Not anymore."

Harry looked at him, his green eyes watery. "I just wanted her to be happy," he insisted. "I was trying to make her happy."

"And what of you?" Snape met his eyes, his brows raised.

"I was happy!" he insisted. "I should have been happy…" Severus motioned for him to go on. This didn't seem like the moment for him to speak. "I couldn't, you know… perform with her. Like, sexually," he clarified. 

"I knew what you meant, Potter. I am not quite so virginal," he responded dryly. "What did you do to rectify the problem?"

"Merlin," Harry sighed. "What didn't I do? I tried potions and they worked, but maybe a little too well." Severus snickered. Virility potions were certainly not the answer for a healthy young man. "So I saw a healer but they said there was no problem. And then I went to a mind healer." His words stopped abruptly. 

"And?" Severus encouraged.

"And he said it may be an issue of attraction." Harry's voice was flat and tired. "And that's when Ginny started getting jealous." He stood and began washing the dishes in the sink as if he couldn't bear to have this conversation face to face any longer. "So she suggested that we try an open relationship or maybe a threesome. She brought someone home and she flaunted him around and," his voice hitched. "I might have had more of a reaction to him than I did to her." 

Severus closed his eyes, not knowing what to say. So that was what their Saviour had been doing over the past 10 years or so, what he had been suffering with alone. He could understand Ginevra's desire to hold onto him at all cost. Merlin, could he. He could even relate to being driven to provoke someone when they weren't giving the desired reaction. But he could never condone it. Such things only caused more hurt; nothing was ever solved in such a way. He knew that all too well. 

"So that is why she broke up with you?" he asked at last.

"Yep," Harry said, putting the last of the dishes away. "That happened two days ago, just after I'd finished the Malfoy job. She broke up with me the next day." He swallowed. "After he left."

Severus wanted to break something. Even in his anger, he could see that no one was truly at fault here, though Miss Weasley's actions left much to be desired. She'd acted out of desperation and hurt, not cruelty. But that did not make things better. Harry had done nothing wrong, per se. She could have broken it off without causing him such stress. She could have set him free years ago. 

It was easy to see, from his perspective on the outside of it, that all Potter had ever wanted was love and acceptance. He'd grown up with nothing, something Severus could relate to, and his stubborn nature would not have allowed him to let go of Ginevra and her family easily. He lit another cigarette. 

"Tell me how you plan to decorate," he said, smiling slightly when Harry's face lit up. He looked years younger when he smiled.

"You're okay with it?" he asked eagerly. At Severus' slight reluctant nod, he dove into an excited explanation, pointing out neglected corners of the rooms that could be spruced up by some greenery and unique woodwork that Severus really hadn't paid any notice to before. 

He largely tuned out the explanation, if he was being honest. It was enough to just watch Harry in his element, to see his face bright and happy, to know that he had done that. Cheerful bells chimed in his mind. 

🔔🎄🔔🎄🔔

"Why Christmas?" he asked, much later, both of them settled into the couch before the fire, mugs of peppermint tea nestled in their hands. "Why are you so enamored with this holiday?"

"Oh, Severus," Harry chuckled. "My first Christmas at Hogwarts was the first time I ever really felt like I belonged somewhere. It's the first time I ever thought I could belong anywhere." He looked over at Severus, his face soft, radiant. "Christmas is magic!"

Severus was reluctant to buy into that. He always had been. But when he looked at Harry's contented face, he thought, just maybe, there was something to it after all.


	5. Raising the Sound

It was less of a surprise when he woke up with Harry wrapped around him that morning. They had stayed up far too late talking and when Severus had finally called it a night and blearily stumbled to bed, Harry following behind him tentatively as if he expected Severus to object. 

Severus did not object. Far from it, really. Harry's hair was soft against his cheek and his body was warm where he'd curled around him. His arm was pinned to his side by the weight of Harry's body, but no, he didn't object. Turning his face slightly, he rubbed his nose against Harry's head. "Potter," he said, his voice still husky from sleep.

It was not Ginevra's name that he murmured that morning as he woke. "Sev," his sleepy voice mumbled as his arms tightened, and Severus couldn't help the little thrill of satisfaction that ran through him. 

"Get off me, Potter," he said. There was no real heat in his tone, though. If he hadn't needed the loo, he'd have been rather content to lay there all day, trapped beneath the Chosen One. 

When he returned, Harry was leaning up on one elbow, his head propped in his hand. "Do you want to come pick out decorations with me today?" he asked hopefully. 

Severus sighed. He could not think of anything he wanted less. But Harry's words about the magic of Christmas rang through his mind punctuated by the chiming of bells. He had been doing the same thing for all these years and it had never brought him the kind of happiness that Harry seemed to feel even through the stress of his life. What the hell, he thought. 

"Against my better judgment," he said, "I suppose that I can go along. If nothing else, someone needs to stop you from turning my home into a tinsel-covered nightmare." 

Harry laughed as he climbed out of bed. "Come on, you know I've better taste than that!"

"I know no such thing," Severus maintained, his voice taking on a sarcastic playful tone. "For all I know, you've been waiting a lifetime to swoop in at the right moment and cover my personal space with glitter."

His cheeks colored slightly upon hearing those words, but he replied with trademark sass. "I'd never cover your personal space in glitter, Severus. It would chafe and I think you've had enough of that for the time being." 

Severus was unable to hold back the bubble of laughter that came from his throat. "You cheeky brat," he said. Not that Potter was wrong, he thought. Thankfully the salve had done its job, but he deliberately picked out a pair of pants from his drawer as he gathered his clothes, much to Harry’s amusement.

"Would it be alright if I took a shower?" he asked, changing the subject as he dug through his bags to gather his own clothing. 

"By all means, Potter. I don't want the embarrassment of being seen in public with a smelly saviour," he replied idly. He was looking through a drawer for his Elton John shirt. He was absolutely not picturing a naked Potter in his bath, of course. 

"I'll just be a minute," Harry said laughing and Severus waved him off. 

When the bathroom door was firmly closed, Severus sat heavily down on the bed, his t-shirt clutched in his hand all-but-forgotten. For the millionth time that week, he asked himself what the fuck he was doing? As he heard the water cut on, he flopped back on the bed covering his face with his shirt. Whatever he was doing, he felt like he was in too deep to change courses now. He would just have to let it play out and prepare himself for the fallout as best he could. 

With a sigh, he stood and dressed himself mechanically then went to the kitchen. After the meal that Potter had made for him the previous night, it was only fair that he return the favour. Eggs and bacon could hardly hold a candle to Potter's bolognaise, but at least he knew that it was something he liked. He heated some water in the kettle for tea, then quickly fried everything up and set the plates on the little table.

The timing was perfect. Potter came out with a towel around his shoulders, his black hair tame for once if only because of its dampness. He was dressed much the same as Severus, in comfortable looking jeans and a green t-shirt, but he looked wonderful. 

"You made me eggs again!" he exclaimed when he saw the table.

"It's nothing," Severus replied quickly. He didn't want praise for doing something so basic. 

"It isn't nothing," Harry said, sitting down at the spot he'd claimed the previous night. "It's really nice. Trading off cooking," he mused as if it were some novel idea.

"I would think that's fairly standard, Potter. I'm certain you've done the same with anyone you've lived with." He chose not to address the fact that he assumed Potter was now living with him. Let it play out, he thought, like the ringing of a bell. It will be gone soon enough, no doubt.

"Not really," Harry said between bites. "Ginny's really busy, you know. Going around to Quidditch matches. She's a reporter," he added. "Growing up, I did pretty much all the cooking. I've never lived with anyone else."

Severus stopped short. There was so much to unpack there, he hardly knew where to begin. "First of all, how is Ginevra busier than you? I would think that anyone, no matter their station, would be equipped to do household chores in their own home," he remarked, settling on asking the easier question first.

"She travels a lot," Harry said, smiling sheepishly. "Plus, house stuff is kind of my thing. It's my job."

Suppressing a sigh, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "By that logic, cooking would fall to me, you know. And yet you did it for me last night."

"It's the least I can do," Harry said. "You're letting me stay here even though I didn't really ask." His words were simple, but his tone suggested something deeper.

"Harry," Severus said, sighing deeply as he put his fork down. "You are allowed to exist. You don't need to pay anyone back for occupying a space in the world." He shifted uncomfortably, not used to being so candid. "What about your relatives? Why did you cook for them when you were a child in their care?"

It was Harry's turn to squirm. "I guess… I wouldn't exactly say I was in their care," he said eventually, turning back to his plate.

"Fucking Dumbledore!" Severus exclaimed, seeing red for the second time in a twelve hour period. He could easily guess at what had happened to Harry Potter. He had known Petunia as a child, after all, and she'd always been cruel and entitled. Why Albus had seen fit to leave a magical child with her was beyond him. 

"Let me reiterate, Harry," he began, trying to fill his words with all of the meaning they deserved, with all that Potter needed to hear. "You are allowed to exist and to have needs and to share responsibilities with the people who have committed to sharing them with you. You do not need to earn your existence. You've done enough." He did not add that they'd both done enough, but his meaning, he thought, was clear. He had spent years making peace with the fact that he did not need to apologize for living, for surviving. It was high time that Harry Potter did the same.

Harry looked up at him finally, his black lashes damp. "That's why you were my first choice, Severus," he said simply. 

They finished eating in silence. Snape's mind was full as usual and he could only guess that Potter's was the same. When they had finished Severus stood to wash the dishes. "Where should we go to procure the decorations?" he asked, surprised to not feel any sort of bitterness about filling his home with holiday cheer.

"Well," Harry said slowly, "it's really up to you. We can get what we need on Diagon Alley, I think. Or we can go to a muggle shop. Whatever you like."

Upon finishing the washing up, Severus sat again and lit a minty cigarette. "I said that I'd accompany you and I meant it, Potter," he said, deciding to trust him. He'd quickly proven over the past few days that he was worth trusting. "Whatever you think best."

Harry smiled. "Can I have some of that?" he asked, gesturing to the cigarette in Snape's long fingers. 

He raised an eyebrow, surprised that the Chosen One would ask for something so common, but he passed it over anyway. Watching Harry's lips close over the end of the cigarette, where his own had been mere seconds before, shouldn't have affected him the way that it did, but he felt his cock twitch inside his pants. 

He was surprised when Harry didn't cough or splutter, but merely exhaled a breath of smoke and handed the cigarette back. Snape raised an eyebrow as he accepted it. "It's not my first time," Harry said, his eyes shining with mirth. 

Severus smirked back and it felt like banter, like good-natured teasing. It felt surprisingly nice. 

When they'd finished the cigarette, passing it back and forth like school children sneaking one in an alley, they bundled up and prepared to go shopping. Severus held out his hand intending to grab Harry's arm to go side-along, but Harry caught it with his own, lacing their fingers together before, without a word, Apparating them out. 

He didn't let go of Harry's hand when they landed at the other end of Diagon Alley, and he didn't let go when they entered the fenced-in clearing where Christmas trees and other holiday plants were being sold. Even as Neville Longbottom came over to greet them, his jolly face going slightly pale when he saw Severus, he held fast to the warm fingers wrapped around his own.

"Pansy told me you left Ginny, but I didn't know…" Neville trailed off and Potter's fingers tightened around his.

"I didn't leave Ginny," he said firmly. "She broke up with me. Severus is letting me stay with him for a while," he glanced over at Snape apologetically, knowing that they really hadn't discussed anything. "How did Pansy know anyway?"

"She does some writing for the Prophet," Neville shrugged. "She ran into Ginny there."

Potter sighed. "So I guess she's already spreading shit around. That's just brilliant." 

"I don't know, Harry. Pansy said she was really upset. Judging by who you're with, I guess I can see why," Neville replied coldly. 

Harry's eyes narrowed and Severus could see in his face the man who had killed the Dark Lord. He moved his hand, intending to release Harry's, but Harry held firmly, stroking his thumb over Snape's wrist in a soothing way. "Ginny and I have been done for a long time, Neville. If we ever had anything in the first place. What happened between us is between us, so kindly leave Severus out of it."

Neville shrugged, his face looking just as intense at Harry's challenge, before he softened. "Whatever Harry," he said. "Just know what's going around. I dealt with all the rumours when I got with Pans, you know. You're going to have it even worse if this is what you're doing."

"I don't know what I'm doing, honestly," Harry said, sighing. "But Gin and me are not a thing. I can't control what she says, but I hope my friends would be willing to hear me out at least."

"Sure, Harry," Neville replied with sincerity. "I'm kind of protective of her, you know. I went through a lot with Ginny. But you were the first to really welcome Pansy. I'd be glad to listen."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said, brightening again as if the moments of intensity had never even happened. Severus was again struck by the fact that he really did not understand how the Gryffindor mind worked. "We really came for a tree," he continued, "and maybe a few other plants if you've got something that likes Snape."

Neville laughed. "I'm married to a Slytherin, Harry. I'm sure we can find something that will suit."

Twenty minutes later, Harry had picked out a rather nice dark green tree and Severus suddenly found himself with a new pet ivy. 

"Erm, Professor Snape," Neville said nervously, "I didn't really plan on selling the tenebris locus ivy. It's kind of poisonous. And clingy."

Gently unwinding the strands of ivy from his wrist, Snape said dryly, "I had noticed. However, as I have no intention of eating it, I do not think it will pose a problem." He admired the plant's dark berries and thought of how nice it would look spidering along the walls of his flat. "And I am not your professor any longer," he added. "Thank Salazar."

"Right," Neville responded, his cheeks colouring lightly. "Well, just be careful with him. He's kind of a match-maker."

Raising an eyebrow, Snape said, "I shall endeavor to keep him away from my many lovers then."

When they left the Christmas tree lot, the evergreen tree scheduled for delivery that afternoon and the plant that Severus had named Curtis curled affectionately around his shoulder, Harry took his free hand again. "Do you have many lovers?" he asked quietly as they walked to the next shop.

Severus snorted. "Potter, you are the first person I've had in my bed since I bought the pub and I'm not even entirely certain why you're there."

Harry gave a self-satisfied little smile. "I just wanted to be sure I wasn't keeping you from your life," he said reasonably and Severus squeezed his hand.

"Don't apologize for existing, Potter. You are not causing me any hardship whatsoever," Severus said. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he wanted Harry to never leave, that he wanted to selfishly horde him away, to cook for him and let him cover his home in glitter and ivy, to wake up beside him every day. There was no need to mention that though. He knew he was getting so far ahead of himself that he had crossed the horizon. There was likely a very good reason that a clingy little plant would find something appealing in him. 

It was no matter though. It was enough to have Harry's calloused hand in his just then. It was enough to listen to the tinkling bells on the street, proclaiming their joy of the season, to breathe in the cold December air with a sense of peace rather than desolation. 

Meandering leisurely from shop to shop, Severus purchased everything that Harry said he needed as they laughed and teased their way down the cheerful street. When he dared Harry to lick the largest bell he'd ever seen, sitting proudly in the town square, he was rewarded with the sight of a cocky Gryffindor whose tongue was stuck to a Christmas bell until he deigned to free him with a splash of conjured water, a memory he would surely cherish forever. When Harry suggested that he allow Luna Lovegood to pierce his ears in her patchouli scented jewelry shop, he smashed a handful of snow into his hair then got poked in the ribs in retaliation. It all had a feel of friendship, of intimacy, of near domesticity. He failed to mention that his ears were already pierced. 

When they arrived back to Brew Glory, parcels and Curtis in hand, Burvis and Bodhi were waiting at the door.

"You're late, Severus," Bodhi laughed. "I think I can understand why though." He ignored Severus' sharp look and he wondered if he was losing his touch. 

"We were just shopping for decorations," Harry said conversationally. "He has basically nothing in his flat."

Unlocking the door, Severus shot the old men another glare. They both smirked back at him, matching in a rather disconcerting way.

"So you are having a party, then?" Burvis asked in a casual way that Severus knew damn well was not casual. 

"Oh, you should!" Harry exclaimed. "It would be perfect!"

Huffing, Severus went inside with Curtis in hand and closed the door behind him, leaving Potter and the Angletons to carry everything else in. Obviously, it was not wise of him to leave them there plotting together, but he had no interest in participating in such a ridiculous conversation. There would be no party. That was where he drew the line. 


	6. Gaily They Ring

Four days later, Severus' pub was festive and merry in its own way, his flat was bright and cheerfully filled with Christmas joy, and he was begrudgingly listening to Harry make party plans, an overly affectionate piece of ivy wound around his ankle.

"We should definitely invite Neville and Pansy," Harry was saying as his chair crept closer to Severus'. "Do you want Mundungus there? Oi! Curtis, stop pulling!"

"Mundungus would likely show up whether or not he was invited," Severus said gloomily. He really did not understand how or why his whole life had been consumed by Christmas joy and Harry bloody Potter, but here they were. His thoughts drifted away as he speculated on what would happen after the holidays, on how Ginevra Weasley would react the next time she was around Harry, on whether the Wimbourne Wasps would win their next match. Really, anything to keep him from planning this cursed party.

"Erm, Severus?" Harry asked, his voice, suddenly husky sounding, very close to Snape's ear. "I think Curtis is trying to tell us something."

Turning his head, he saw that the plant had pulled Potter close to him, their bodies nearly touching. It would be so easy to shift slightly, to run his fingers over Harry's thigh, to nuzzle his nose into the soft spot between his jaw and his ear. He pulled his lower lip in between his teeth and bit down, stopping him from saying something he would certainly regret. He dropped his gaze and reached into his pocket, grabbing a pack of cigarettes instead. 

The past week had been incredible. There was something about the two of them that just worked. Harry didn't mind his moods and, though he was unsure exactly why, he didn't mind Harry's eternal cheer. They cooked for each other and at night they tumbled into bed together. They awoke with their bodies tangled together and Severus never ever mentioned the deep longing that he felt for Harry, determined not to ask for too much, not knowing how Harry really felt. 

"I'm interested, you know," Harry tried again as Severus lit a cigarette. His hand was shaking slightly and he dropped it into his lap, pulling cool smoke into his dry mouth. 

"Are you interested or do I seem like a safe option for a rebound?" he asked softly.

"There's nothing safe about you, Severus," Harry whispered. "I've been interested for years. I told you, you were my first choice."

A noise came from Severus' throat then, a desperate whine that he should have been very embarrassed about but he couldn't find it in him to care. The cigarette was crushed out in the ashtray, no longer needed as a distraction from what was right in front of him. He did reach out then, burying his hands in Potter's wild hair. "You're an idiot," he said before pulling Potter closer, the ivy leaves around his ankle trembling happily.

"Yes," Harry laughter huffed softly over his lips. "I really am."

They didn't kiss so much as they crashed together, days of tentative friendship and sexual tension passing back and forth between them. Harry's mouth was a flame and Severus was a moth, unable to resist the lure of those soft pink lips. They were all lips and teeth and grabbing fingers. At some point, Curtis retreated from them, moving his tendrils into the dark corner that he preferred, the dark purple berries interspersed between his leaves shining healthily. 

Eventually, their kisses grew softer, more tender, until Severus pulled back altogether, resting his forehead against Harry's. 

"We don't really have to have a party if you don't want to," Harry confessed, running his hand over Severus' ribs. "I just wanted an excuse to spend more time here."

"I think you will find, Harry Potter," Severus whispered, "that there is very little I would not do at your prompting. This week has made it abundantly clear that I have lost whatever edge I ever possessed."

"I think," Harry replied, standing and smiling cheekily as he trailed his fingers down Severus' arm, "that you still fully have your edge. Maybe I'm just an exception to the rule."

Severus huffed. "Nothing out of the ordinary there," he muttered. The sound of Harry's laughter left him smiling long afterward, though. 

🔔🎄🔔🎄🔔

Eight days after Harry's abrupt arrival into his life, twelve hours and thirty-six minutes after their late-night snogging session in the kitchen (not that Severus was counting) saw Harry venturing into the pub again. He very tentatively greeted Mundungus and the hags, who were looking particularly cozy. Severus supposed that there really was a kind of magic about Christmas. He, for one, had never been happier.

After greeting Burvis and Bodhi much more warmly, Harry went about flitting from table to table. Sometimes he helped Severus to serve the customers and sometimes he just spent time talking with them, laughing and joking as only an extrovert Gryffindor could. Every person that walked through the door got a warm reception from Harry Potter and they all delighted in it. Brew Glory had never been busier. 

At one point, he got drawn into a conversation with a group of young potions students when he heard a timing charm go off in the kitchen. Ding! It rang out, mimicking the sound of the Christmas bells he had come to love. 

"Ah, chips are done," he excused himself. "One moment."

When he walked back into the room, a basket of chips in hand, the atmosphere was much more subdued than it had been when he left. The reason for that became immediately evident as he followed Bodhi's wary gaze. He felt as if the air had been suddenly pulled from his lungs. 

Harry – his Harry! – stood just inside the open door, a cold breeze quickly filling the room, locked in an intense conversation with one Ginevra Weasley. 

If not for magic, he'd have dropped the tray of chips he was carrying. He stood stock still, staring, his mouth agape as he watched Harry's brow furrow before he walked out of the pub with her, never even looking back at Severus. 

Taking a deep breath through his nose then another, expanding his chest around his aching heart, he closed his mouth and shook his head slightly to clear it. He had known that this was temporary. He had always acknowledged that, had always acted under the impression that Harry would only stay with him until someone better for him came along. There had always been the expectation that the sunshine of the Wizarding World would never remain with a snarky grumpy old man. 

He just thought that Harry would say goodbye at the very least. 

It was fine though. This was fine. He had a pub to run and, thanks to Harry, it was busier than ever. He collected himself and moved on, waving off Bodhi when he stood to speak to him. There were chips to deliver and drinks to refill. There were stinging hexes to send at Mundungus when he got too near to the nutcrackers on the mantle. His day was busy and his life was full and he did not wonder where Harry bloody Potter had gone, he did not think about why he'd left. And if he was rather short with his customers, it was surely what they expected from the likes of him. Who really cared?

Although he told himself that he had accepted it, had gone through his day convincing himself of that fact, it still stung when he closed and locked the door that night and there was no word from Harry. He wondered who he was even trying to fool. It was true that he'd always acknowledged that Harry would likely leave him. But he had also entertained a measure of hope, a gaily ringing bell in his heart whispering that he deserved happiness too.

Not even bothering to wash the dishes, he trudged up the stairs to his flat. 

The bright decorations standing out in the dimly lit room felt like a slap in the face. How dare Harry bring all of this to him and then leave without a word? He shut off all the fairy lights and sank to the floor beside Curtis, the blackness of the room providing a strange measure of comfort as he rested his chin on his knees next to his toxic little plant. 

"He's gone, Curtis," he muttered, wondering what was wrong with him that he felt more comfortable talking to a potted plant than he did talking with another human being. "I'm not sure why. I did nothing wrong."

A soft tendril of ivy wrapped gently around his wrist, comforting him in its own way. He ran a thumb softly over the leaves and wondered how on earth he was going to host a party now, a party that was already planned, a party that it was too late to cancel. 

It had never been his party. It had always been Harry's, but it seemed that, through no fault of his own, he had inherited it. And wasn't that always the way? In the end, he was always left alone to take care of other people's messes. In less than two days, he'd do what he'd always done: he would take care of the party, the problem, and he would shut everyone out of his heart once again. This, he was miserably reminded, was why he shouldn't let people in.

Dropping his head to his bent knees, he wallowed in self pity. Had it only been a day ago that they'd been snogging in the kitchen? Only a few hours ago that he'd been happy? He'd thought that Harry was happy too. He'd been correct when he'd told Harry that he truly did not know what to expect from people. 

It was there that he fell asleep, Curtis' comforting presence beside him in the dark. And for the first time since the season had begun, the bells that he'd grown so accustomed to fell silent.

🔔🎄🔔🎄🔔

The best thing about being alone, Severus thought, was that there was no one to make him do anything. All of his life, he'd been thrust into one role or another, never really willing or able to act on his own. In the ten years since the war, he'd learned how to do better, how to care for himself better, how to do only that which he truly wanted to do. It wasn't much, if he was being honest, but his life was his own. 

The past week of having Potter around had taught him something different entirely. He'd learned that there could be a kind of joy, a giddiness even, from pushing one's own boundaries, from giving of himself to the people that he chose. 

The fact that he'd always been a poor judge of character was another issue entirely; one that, judging by how awful he felt, hadn't changed over the years. He felt quite certain as he sat there that the giddy sort of joy was not worth the hurt that came afterward. It was true that he gave of himself, but it was equally true that he rarely received anything in return.

Standing up was an interesting task that took entirely too long. Men in their 50s should not sleep curled on the floor, he decided. Flashes of childhood memories ran through his mind, memories of curling up just like that in nasty old Spinner's End whenever he'd been hurt or frightened. It hadn't felt good then either, but at least his joints had ached less. He wasn't sure that anything much had truly improved since then. 

He conjured some water for Curtis and for the little tree, not feeling particularly interested in going to the kitchen just then, in revisiting the memory of having Harry's skin under his fingertips, of Harry's hair against his face. 

The bedroom, too, was full of Harry, his bag beside the door, the shape of his head on the pillow, but at least he hadn't kissed Harry here. He had held Harry in his arms here, but he had not made love to him. In a way, he wished that he had, just so that he'd know what it was like to be with someone who accepted him, for all of his flaws, so easily. Or at least, he amended, someone who could pretend very well. 

He washed himself perfunctorily, wondering why he even bothered. His hair still looked slick and oily when it was clean. He dressed perfunctorily. Black socks, black jeans, black t-shirt, black flannel, all black to match his mood. He did not want anyone expecting holiday cheer from him today, decorations or not. If they wanted cheer, they could look at the house elf heads on the wall.

Briefly, he considered sinking back down on the bed, going back to sleep. He wasn't obligated to open the pub today. But he thought better of it when he realized that would mean laying next to what he'd come to think of as Harry's pillow, laying in bed alone for the first time in nine days.

Instead he grabbed a brush and ran it harshly through his hair, pulling and twisting it into a tight French braid, something he'd picked up from Narcissa years ago. He knew that it made his face look even more severe, but he didn't care. Severe is how he felt. That done, he grabbed a vial of nail polish and neatly painted his nails an inky matte black, something he had done less frequently as a pub owner than he had as a Potions Master but today it felt right. 

Having wasted as much time as he possibly could, he finally pulled his boots on and headed downstairs, cringing as the bells on the banister tinkled irritatingly at him. 

It was fine. This was how it should be, he thought. Severus Snape did not do Christmas and this whole endeavor had been doomed from the start. Once the party was taken care of – and it was sure to be a miserable disaster with him hosting it – he would tear down the decorations and everything would go back to normal. He could spend Christmas alone rereading Maurice and be finished with all of this nonsense. 

That decided, he stalked over to the kitchen, his open flannel shirt billowing behind him the way that his teaching robes had once done. There were last night's dishes yet to wash and he knew that he should take inventory. He'd been busy enough lately that he was likely to be running low on things. There were no decorations, no party, no bells, and no Potter. He firmly banished it all from his mind as he got to work. All that he needed, he was certain, was to get back to work and forget that this whole silly season had ever happened.

His plan worked well as he scrubbed the dishes by hand and as he counted kegs in the cellar. His plan worked well as he chopped ingredients for today's stew and as he warmed bread for sandwiches. His plan worked all morning long until he decided it was time to cut on the lights and prepare to open the pub.

His plan worked until it didn't. It worked until he walked into the dining area and noticed a messy head of black hair and a set of broad shoulders pressed back against his door just visible through the window, waiting, he assumed, for him. 


	7. On Without End

Sagging slightly, Severus walked to the door then hesitated. He wondered if this would be the last time he'd ever see that wild black hair gracing his doorway. A few weeks ago, the mere idea of him pining for Harry Potter would have struck him as absurd. He may have even laughed.

Now, though… now it just felt sad.

Raising a hand, he tapped lightly on the window beside Harry's head, suppressing a chuckle when he jumped and the bells on the door twinkled.

"I suppose you're here for your things," he said darkly as he opened the door. 

"What?" Harry asked, sounding both exhausted and genuinely surprised. He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn the day before, the day he'd kissed him while Curtis wove around their ankles. There were dark circles under his tired eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked imploringly back at Severus.

He sighed. He had forgotten how slow Potter could be. "You left here yesterday with your ex-girlfriend," he said patronizingly. "I assume that you are here to collect your things and be off on your merry way to a future of unhappiness and virility potions?" No, he wasn't bitter. Of course not. He looked down at his black nails.

Fingers came to rest lightly on his sharp cheekbone, slowly tracing their way down his jawline. "Is that what you really thought?" Harry asked incredulously. 

He jerked away from Harry's hand. "I'm not sure what else I could think, Potter," he snapped. 

Harry's mouth turned down at the corners as realization dawned in his stupid green eyes. "Right," he said sadly. "I guess that is what it looked like. That's really not what it was though."

Narrowing his eyes, Severus turned abruptly and headed behind the bar. Pouring two measures of whiskey out, he settled down into his stool and waited for Harry to join him. "What did she push you into this time?" he asked coldly when Harry had gotten seated, looking nearly as unsteady as he had the first night he'd been there. 

After taking a sip of whiskey and hissing slightly as the burning liquid hit his throat, Harry said, "She had talked to her family about how I was humiliating her and she came in here ranting about it." Severus lit a cigarette and passed it to him then lit another for himself. "Molly told her she needed to talk some sense into me no matter what it took. I didn't want the drama in here and then splashed all over today's Prophet, so I went to the Burrow with her."

Severus took a sip of his own whiskey, a drag off of his cigarette. Candlelight, dim and unneeded with the cool winter sun shining through the windows, flickered around them. "Why didn't you tell me?" Severus asked quietly, a dangerous note in his voice. "A floo call? An owl?"

"I'm sorry, Severus!" Harry said, snapping a bit but still sounding sincere. "I was a bit busy being yelled at by a pair of shrill ginger women!" 

Severus winced. One was bad enough, nevermind two. "And what was the outcome?" he asked, his tone softer.

"Well, it was really bad at first," he admitted, pausing to take a drag of his cigarette. "I just had to stand back and let them wear themselves out, really. It was all 'ten years of your lives wasted' and 'I wanted to have a family with you,'" he mimicked the high-pitched voice of an angry Weasley woman. "But Ginny burnt out first, ran crying up to her old room," he said. "And then Molly calmed down when she didn't have anyone to feed off of. And I just explained things." He shrugged as if it were as simple as that. 

"You explained what?" Severus asked curiously. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the bar, and swirled the remaining whiskey around in his glass.

Harry snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray between them. "First, I just told her how hard I'd tried to make things work. And how I just couldn't do it anymore. It wasn't good for Ginny or for me. And she seemed to understand that," he said. "She could tell that I never wanted to hurt Ginny and that I'd done everything I damn well could to keep that from happening." He looked at Severus; his eyes were wide and so, so green. He looked perfect, unattainable. 

"You said at first?" Severus asked. "What next?"

His cheeks grew pink and he looked away. "I started talking about you then."

"Me?" Severus raised an eyebrow. He hoped to Salazar that Potter hadn't implied he was the reason for this breakup. He did not want an angry mother hen on his doorstep. He hadn't asked for any of this!

"Just," Harry laughed awkwardly, "I mean, how much I like you. How long I've been thinking about you. How right it feels to be with you. So she hugged me and sent me away, said she'd handle Ginny. She said I needed to come back to you." He met Severus' eyes again. "You feel it, don't you? How right we are?" 

"You bloody fucking idiot," Severus said, but with some affection. "I slept on the floor with Curtis last night. I could not bear my bed without you in it." He did not mention that he hadn't even laid down, but had slept curled against the wall like a child. No need to let on just how pathetic he'd felt. 

"On the floor?" Harry asked, aghast. "But you're…"

"If you mention my age, Harry Potter, I swear to Merlin I will hex you," he warned.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sev," Harry said, his eyes wide and an innocent but a crooked grin on his lips. "You are a picture of youth. You look like a grunge band's roadie. With a librarian hairstyle."

Severus stood then, feigning anger to hide his amusement. He did look rather like a grunge band roadie with librarian hair. Not that he'd ever admit that aloud.. He marched around the bar and pulled Potter off of his barstool, spinning him around and pressing his back against the bar. Green eyes twinkled at him with amusement and something else, something indefinable. 

"You've more greys than I do," Severus said as he wrapped his long fingers around Harry's wrists. "And you don't even have the style of a grunge band roadie. Your head looks like a badger."

Laughing aloud, Harry pressed his body flush against Severus' with what little leverage he had. "You like it," he said, the cheeky brat.

There was no way to deny it and Severus wasn't sure he'd have wanted to even if he could. The bells were ringing again in his mind. Harry wanted him. He was glad for his librarian hair because he didn't want anything in his way for the kiss he was certain was coming. "I do," he whispered, his face millimeters from Harry's. 

"Do I get my punishment now?" Harry murmured. His breath was warm on Severus' lips and it took a moment for his words to sink in. 

"Ah. You remember that?" he asked, his own face flushing.

"I remember everything about you, Severus," Harry said, his eyes kindly pleasantly mirthful. "'Bottle fame, brew glory'," he intoned in a deep voice. "'Your head should not be in Hogsmeade, Potter.' 'I am not making you eggs.' 'You deserve to exist.' Shall I go on?"

"Please do not," he replied dryly, but he couldn't help feeling rather pleased. "How long?"

"Hmm?" Harry asked, his lips pressed to Severus' jaw.

"You told Molly how long you'd thought of me," he prompted. "How long?"

"Oh! Erm," he wiggled out of Severus' grip and moved toward the stairs. "Since sixth year," he said quickly then sprinted up them. 

Dear Merlin and Albus Dumbledore, Severus thought. Since his sixth year? A thought suddenly occurred to him and he shouted out, "There's no need to call me Sir, Professor?!"

Almost hysterical laughter drifted down to him before the door to his flat slammed closed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus muttered to himself, "I always knew it would be a Potter that killed me."

After extinguishing the candles and putting stasis charms over all of the food he'd started, he made sure the front door was locked and Spello-taped a sign to it:  **Closed for Party Planning** . Yes, that was one way of putting it. He turned and stalked upstairs after Harry.

🔔🎄🔔🎄🔔

"Do you mean to tell me," Severus called as he opened the door, "that you had some school-boy fantasy about  _ me _ at Hogwarts?"

Harry was crouched down beside Curtis, his back to the door, trying to cajole him to twist a bit of vine around his finger. Curtis, apparently still miffed about the previous night, was having none of it. 

"I didn't really know it back then," Harry said reasonably. "I thought I was in love with Ginny at the time. It was just when I looked back on it that I started to recognize it." He turned and looked seriously at Severus over his shoulder. "Especially after I learned the truth of all that happened that year, I was able to kind of process those feelings and see them for what they were." He paused.

"To be fair, I had quite a thing for Draco back then too," he said as he stood.

Of course it would be a Malfoy. He recalled how appealing Lucius had been back in his own Hogwarts days. "But now it's only me?" Severus asked, sounding small and desperate and not caring for an instant that he did. 

Crossing the room quickly, Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' waist. "It's only you, Severus," he said, gazing truthfully into his eyes. "It's you without end."

Reaching behind his back, Severus plucked Harry's hands away from his body and pulled them to his face, loving the feeling of warm skin against his. Never before had it been  _ only _ him, not for anyone or anything. Not for anything good, that is. He hadn't realized how good it would feel to hear those words. 

Quickly coming to a decision, he released Harry's hands and grabbed the front of his rumpled shirt, dragging him in and kissing him hard. The feeling of soft lips and rough stubble, of Harry's tongue sliding over his, of Harry's arms coming to rest over his shoulders, made him want to set something on fire so he could melt in the glow. 

"Come to bed with me, Potter," he whispered as he drug his mouth down over Harry's jaw, kissing and nibbling softly. 

"You mean, to…" Harry trailed off with a gasp as Severus latched on to the sensitive spot beside his ear.

"If you like," Severus murmured. "Or we can simply nap. But I would have you in my bed. It's where you belong."

"I would like." Harry's voice was breathless with wanton desire and Severus pulled away abruptly, his fingers still tangled in Harry's shirt, and studied him. 

What he found on Harry's face was exactly what he felt in his own heart, in his very bones, at that moment. Affection wrapped in desire sprinkled with something like love. Harry's magic reached out to him and his reached back, wanting, needing. Curtis was reaching out to them as well, his dark vines creeping across the floor. The little pervert. 

With a confidence that he had rarely felt in his life, Severus stepped forward, walking Harry backward to the bedroom. Harry went happily, his lips trailing desperately over Severus' throat as they went. He kicked the door closed behind them and shoved Harry down hard onto the bed.

Taking a moment to drink in the sight of Harry Potter scooting back up the bed, of Harry Potter sprawled there on his duvet, his eyes half-lidded with desire, he kicked off his boots rather gracelessly, but Harry didn't seem bothered and he certainly wasn't. He knelt on the bed and crawled up Harry's body, loving the way that Harry's hands scrambled over his body. The black flannel was tossed to the floor and then Severus' lips were against Harry's again. 

Harry's legs were spread and Severus slotted himself between them as they snogged urgently. He could feel Harry's desire pressed against him, long and hard between his legs, but he did not shy away this time. He rocked his hips back and forth, driving his own denim-covered cock against Harry's as they kissed and touched. One of his hands wandered up Harry's shirt, fingers brushing through the hair on his chest before finding a nipple and gently rubbing it, drawing it to a tight little peak.

"Severus, please!" Harry gasped. "I'm gonna come in my pants if you keep doing that!" Green eyes were bright, amusement mixed with lust as if he wasn't especially ashamed that he may come in his pants like a school-boy; he simply wasn't ready for it to be over yet. 

Sitting up, Severus rested on his knees and smirked. "Take your clothes off," he said, teasing. "Then you can come on me if you like."

Biting back a moan, Harry scrambled to do just that. His shirt came off and Severus was treated to the sight of his broad chest covered lightly with curling black hair. His jeans and pants were removed at the same time as Harry, fumbling, shoved them down over his hips, his hard cock slapping his belly lightly as he freed it.

Once he had kicked his jeans to the floor, Severus backed up and removed his socks slowly, just for an excuse to look his fill. "I want to take you apart, Potter," he said in a low voice.

"Yes," Harry begged, his hands twisted in the duvet. "Do that." Severus made to get back on the bed when Harry stopped him. "Take yours off too. I need your skin on mine."

Severus smiled which is something he did not often do. He smirked, he sneered, but smiling was not a thing that came easily. There was no fighting it this time, though; not when Harry wanted him, wanted to see all of him, was hard and waiting for him. He knew that his teeth were crooked and his face was harsh, but Harry smiled back as if it was the best thing he'd ever seen. 

Slowly he pulled his shirt over his head. Insecurities bounded through his mind – too skinny, too pale – but as he looked back at Harry, looking for all the world as if he'd won the jackpot of mean ugly old men, they quieted. Opening his jeans, he pushed them down and stepped out of them. The outline of his cock was clearly visible, hard and straining, through his black pants, but he still hesitated to remove that last bit of protection he had from the world.

Without wanting it, his mind unhelpfully supplied the thought of what had happened the last time he'd been bared to a Potter and he hesitated. "Severus," Harry said softly from the bed.

Severus looked up and met those bright, bright eyes, full of so many emotions but none of them harsh or unpleasant at all. He breathed and pushed his pants down, just standing there naked after he'd done so. Mentally, he berated himself for giving in to such old hurts and insecurities after all this time. 

"I'm so glad you exist," Harry said, breaking through his negative thoughts. He smiled again at the way Harry'd turned his own words around on him, then climbed back into the bed. 

Rolling over Harry's body felt more intimate, more intense, than it had when they'd both been clothed. The tender kiss that Severus pressed to Harry's soft mouth quickly grew heated again. He straddled Harry then, trapping him beneath him, their hard cocks sliding together as they kissed. "Take me apart, Severus," Harry said against his lips. "You said you would."

Bells rang clearly in Severus' mind as the spark fully came back into him. This was too right, too good, to hold back. "Very well," he said smoothly and then, pressing one more kiss to Harry's mouth, he began to move down his body. 

Taking his time, he sucked and nipped at Harry's collarbone as his fingers found and toyed with his left nipple. When he moved further down, it was to draw the right one into his mouth, sucking and running his teeth gently over it as Harry moaned and melted into the bed. His own cock was throbbing, leaking into the duvet, but it didn't matter just then. All that mattered was coaxing every ounce of pleasure that he could from the lovely body beneath him. 

Licking, sucking, biting his way down Harry's stomach, he dipped his tongue into his navel pleased at the choked gasp that Harry gave. He nuzzled at the dark curls surrounding Harry's cock, then pressed a light kiss to the tip of it, tasting the salty pre-come that smeared over his lips. 

It was a very lovely cock, all flushed and hard and thick. Severus imagined how nice it would feel sliding over his tongue, how beautifully it could fill him, but that was not his focus right now. He drew Harry's heavy bollocks into his mouth, one after the other, gently running his tongue over them as they shifted in his mouth. He moved Harry's muscular thighs so that they were draped over his own narrow shoulders, smiling softly because he'd reached his current destination and Harry was already whimpering. "So needy," he said in a low voice.

Running his tongue over the strip of skin behind Harry's balls, Severus grasped his arse cheeks and gently pulled them apart. His mouth watered as he looked at Harry's hole, all pink and puckered as if it was begging to be kissed. 

So he did. Pressing his lips to that puckered little opening, he kissed it in a way that was somehow as chaste and adoring as it was filthy. 

"Severus!" Harry gasped, his lust-hazed voice almost panicked. He moved his hands as if to push him away, but as Severus began running his tongue softly around the wrinkled little hole, he ended up just grabbing his own legs and holding them up, opening himself up wider. 

"Is this alright?" Severus asked, pulling back a bit. The last thing he desired was to do anything that Harry didn't want, didn't like.

"Mmf," Harry mumbled. "It's amazing… its just," he gasped as Severus blew gently across his arsehole. "It's just dirty."

"Mmm," Severus understood then. There was nothing dirty about Harry to him, all was sweet and perfect, but he could understand the discomfort. Leaning over the side of the bed, he grappled around until he found his wand. He pressed the dark wood against Harry's hole, which was rather unnecessary but he enjoyed the way it looked, and muttered a cleaning and protection charm intended for this specific use,  _ Penitus Mundare.  _ He even cast one over himself just for good measure. Harry sucked in a breath as the tingly magic settled over him, but relaxed when Severus said, "Now it isn't."

Harry looked incredulously down between his knees at Severus' smirking face. "Alright, okay… yeah," he said breathlessly, flopping his head back down on the pillow. "Carry on."

As he pulled his knees back farther, Severus was able to free up one of his hands, so he reached up and began running soft teasing fingers over the length of Harry's cock and balls as he licked and tasted his arsehole. He ran his tongue firmly back and forth over the tight little opening, sometimes circling it with the tip of his tongue. His own cock was aching but he was enjoying himself, enjoying the taste of Harry's hole and the sounds of his enjoyment too much to care. As Harry relaxed, so did his arse, and Severus was able to drive the tip of his tongue inside, drawing a new kind of desperate moan from Harry. 

"More, please," he gasped. "Merlin, Severus!"

Only too happy to oblige, Severus licked his finger and began inching the tip of it inside of Harry. His stomach tensed with arousal as he watched his black-painted fingernail disappear into that impossibly tight heat. After watching for a moment, he bent once more to lick and suck at Harry, even as he drove the tip of his finger in and out of him. 

When Harry begged for more once again, Severus summoned a pot of Omega's Slick lubricant from his bedside table and coated two fingers in it. Watching both disappear inside of Harry's body was even more satisfying and once he had loosened up enough for Severus to scissor his fingers apart, he took great satisfaction from slipping his tongue between them, nuzzling his nose against Harry's balls as he did so. 

By the time Severus slid three fingers into Harry's hungry little hole, he had had enough. "Please fuck me, Severus," he begged, his hands releasing his legs and scrambling over Severus' shoulders. "Please, please, now!"

Withdrawing his fingers slowly, Severus reveled at the way Harry's arsehole, now opened up a bit, winked at him like it wanted to be filled as badly as Harry did. "Are you certain?" he asked calmly, though he was on the verge of losing control himself. 

"Severus Snape, if you don't fuck me now, I'm going to flip you over and ride you," Harry demanded.

Severus chuckled. "Tempting," he said, smoothly sliding up so that his body covered Harry's again. "Maybe next time."

If Harry was bothered about how dirty Severus licking his arse was, he didn't show it. As soon as the words had left his mouth, Harry wrapped his arms around his neck and began hungrily devouring him, plunging his tongue into Severus' mouth as if he wanted to taste himself there. 

Fumbling a bit, Severus lined the head of his cock up with Harry's wet hole and slowly began pressing inside as they kissed. Even after all the teasing, Harry felt impossibly deliciously tight, but if there was any pain, he didn't show it. He kissed him with wild abandon and wrapped his legs around Severus' hips, attempting to drive him in faster.

He had to pause for a moment when he was fully buried, when his balls pressed against Harry's body, because he knew that he'd come right away if he didn't. Untangling himself from Harry's strong arms wasn't easy, but he did it, murmuring, "Let me make you come. I want your come all over us."

Wide eyed, Harry watched as Severus sat back a bit and pressed his knees to his chest. His lips were full and pink from being kissed so thoroughly. The skin of his chest was flushed and his nipples stood up from his chest in arousal. Severus began thrusting then, loving the way Harry's rim clung to his cock every time he pulled out. He adjusted his angle slightly until he felt Harry clamp down, saw his green eyes go wide.

"Do that again!" he demanded, so Severus did.

After ensuring that he was rubbing Harry's prostate with every stroke, he reached down and wrapped his hand around his neglected prick, rubbing a thumb over his wet slit and stroking in time with his thrusts. 

With so much buildup, it did not take long for Harry to cry out, for his cock to spurt creamy fluid over Severus' hand, for his arse to clamp down tightly and rhythmically on Severus' prick. And at the sight of Harry coming, the feel of his come on Severus' hand, the incredible squeezing on his cock, he felt his own balls tighten with imminent release. He drove his cock deep inside Harry one final time before spilling his own come into that beautifully hot arse.

He lay down on top of Harry then, his softening prick slowly slipping out of his arse, and nuzzled his nose against his neck. Harry's arms wrapped around him, holding him close, and everything in the world felt right.


	8. Their Joyful Tone

Severus dozed for a while, his face pressed against Harry's shoulder, and when he awoke it was to gentle fingers carding through his loosened hair. 

"Why'd you pull your hair back like that?" Harry asked idly when he realized that Severus was awake.

"Mmm," Severus leaned up on one elbow and looked down at him. "The better to eat your arse, my dear."

Harry rolled his eyes and Severus noticed that, at some point, he'd laid his glasses on the bedside table. He looked incredibly young without them, even with the grey hairs streaking his temples. 

"So you woke up alone on the floor next to Curtis and thought, 'I think I'll put my tongue up Harry Potter's butt today'?" he asked sarcastically. 

Severus huffed. "No," he said, rolling over to his back. "I felt severe and I wanted to look it. I was in no mood for nonsense and dunderheads."

Harry turned on his side to look down at him then. "You always look severe," he said, rubbing his nose against Severus'. "It's not even your middle name. It's your first one."

Raising his eyebrows, Severus reached over and pinched Harry's arse. "You are a brat," he said, "and I do not know why I put up with you."

Laughing, Harry began placing kisses all over Severus' face. "Because I can cook," he said, kissing a temple. "And because I'm so funny," he kissed his nose. "And because you really secretly love Christmas and all my decorations," he kissed his cheek. "And because of this sweet, sweet arse," he kissed his mouth.

Shoving him away playfully, Severus said, "It's one of those. I'll let you figure out which one."

Harry pulled the duvet over them both before rolling to his back and resting his head on his arms. "Sex has never been like that for me before," he said. "Like, it was something fun, not a chore to work at."

"I suppose," Severus replied, "it is different when you're with the right person. Something just clicks into place." 

"Has it ever been like that for you before?" Harry wondered. His face was open and free of judgment as he looked up at the ceiling. 

Severus snorted, grateful for his answer in spite of Harry's apparent acceptance. "No," he said flatly. "Not in the least." If things went the way that it seemed like they were going, he was certain that the two of them would talk about former partners at some point, but it really wasn't anything he wanted to do just then. "I've closed the pub for the day," he said, changing the subject as he ran his fingers through Harry's chest hair.

Harry looked over at him. "You did?" he asked, surprised. "When's the last time you did that?"

"I have never done it before," Severus said. "Don't get used to it."

"Man," Harry laughed. "Dung is gonna be pissed! He's not allowed at the Leaky anymore."

"For good reason," Severus snorted. "At least he has someone to keep him company now."

"Pormetha and Asteryn?" Harry asked and Severus snorted. Of course, he knew their names. "Yeah, I think they're good for him. They seem happy."

"They keep him in line, I suppose," Severus said, not particularly wanting to discuss Mundungus or the hags at length while he was naked in bed. "What should we do for the rest of the day?" he asked.

"What did you say you were doing? I'm sure you put up a note in that spidery scrawl of yours."

Huffing, Severus said, "I put that I was closed for party planning. And you're one to talk about penmanship. I've graded your essays."

Harry ignored him and idly ran his palm down Severus' ribs then cupped his balls. "If this is how you plan for a party, I'm not sure we should have invited so many people."

"Brat!" Severus admonished, laughing, but it didn't stop him from thrusting his hips up into Harry's hand. "The party is planned already, especially now that you are back."

"Is it so hard to say you just wanted to see me?" Harry asked, dimples flashing in his cheeks.

"I wanted to see you," Severus said huskily. "And I wanted to see no one else but you."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, Sev," Harry joked. Severus did not even bother to correct him because his hand was on his cock, coaxing it to hardness once more, which he hadn't even known was possible so soon for someone his age. 

They just clicked.

"Can I do what you did to me?" he asked, his own cock pressing hard against Severus. "I've never done it before, but I want to. With you."

Severus turned and kissed him, slow and deep. He took Harry's hand and pressed it against his arse, flinging a leg around Harry's hip to press their bodies closer, to spread himself open just a bit. "Haven't I told you, Harry," he said, "there is very little that I will not do if you wish it. And as far as this goes, you do not need to question it. I want it too."

🔔🎄🔔🎄🔔

Harry did, in fact, wish it, and he did it expertly. As with so many things that Harry did, he flung himself into making love with a grace and a natural ease that left Severus' head spinning. Or perhaps it was simply that they clicked so well.

They spent the day learning one another's bodies, experimenting and playing. After some measure of trial and error, they determined that 69 was best with Harry on the bottom. Severus learned that he loved the taste of Harry's come and would happily sweep his tongue over Harry's belly after fucking him just so that he could taste it. And Harry learned just how flexible Severus was.

"It should be illegal for someone to bend like that," he muttered, his lips against Severus' arsehole. 

Severus only smirked back at him. "I do yoga most mornings. Perhaps you can join me."

Harry's only response was a low moan. His tongue was otherwise occupied. 

When they began to feel sticky and sweaty, they headed into the bath together. Severus had no idea how much he would love Harry smelling like him, but now that he'd experienced it, he wanted it to always be that way. 

They stumbled, naked and teasing, into the kitchen and cooked together when they got hungry. Curtis had sprouted another branch while they'd been in the bedroom and he ran lightly over their feet as they ate.

"What are we going to do after this?" Harry asked.

"I suppose we shall have a party," Severus said, but he wasn't quite as bothered by the idea as he once was. He knew that it would be over soon enough and then Harry would be his alone again.

"I meant after that," he said, worrying at his thumb nail with his teeth. 

Bending down, Severus brushed his fingers over a clump of purple berries and admired the pleased shiver that Curtis gave in response. It was much like petting a cat, he thought, but with less mess.

"I suppose," he said slowly, "that you will decorate the homes of wealthy wizards and I will serve ale to miscreants and scoundrels. And when we've finished with that each day, we will cook for each other and talk to each other. You will be stupid, I will be delightful. And then," he said, a wicked gleam in his eye, "we fuck in my bed. Unless you'd prefer to call it ours."

Green eyes almost glowed with the brightness of Harry's grin. The fairy lights were twinkling on the tree in the corner, but they didn't hold a candle to Harry's bright face. "I told you Christmas was magical, Sev. It brought us together!" he said as Curtis' new branch toyed with the bells on the tree. 

"I'm more inclined to think that stupid bravery and too much liquor brought us together," Severus said dryly, but he couldn't keep a slight smile from his face. 

The man who had grown up from a scrappy unloved little boy, the man who had once defeated the darkest wizard of their time, sat across from him and grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together. His dark hair was still messy though it was lightly peppered with grey. His glasses still sat on his face just below the wicked scar he'd had for most of his life. "Getting pissed that night was probably the best thing I've ever done, then," he said.


	9. Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas

Brew Glory had surely been this full at some point, but Severus could not pinpoint exactly when that would have been. And he knew that, even if it had ever been so full, it would not have been filled with people that he knew and who came specifically because he'd invited them. He knew that because he had never invited anyone before.

The party was going rather well, though. Harry had hired Seamus Finnegan as the deejay and had apparently made him a list. There were a fair number of Christmas songs, of course, but they were largely limited to Elton John, The Ramones, and the like. It seemed like such a kind gesture, to seek out unusual Christmas songs just for him, that Severus wasn't bothered even when a more traditional song came on. 

They had spent the morning cooking together in the pub's back room kitchen, making hundreds of mince pies and biscuits, putting together dozens of sandwich trays, and premixing some popular drinks so that Severus wouldn't be chained to the bar all evening. Then, just before party time, they'd gone upstairs to shower and change. After sucking each other off in the tub, they did end up slightly late for their own party, but other than getting knowing glances from Burvis and Bodhi, no one seemed the wiser. 

Pansy and Neville arrived, fashionably late as expected from a Slytherin, and Harry drew him over to greet them. After giving warm hugs (Harry) and tentative handshakes (Severus), Harry turned to acost Neville.

"Oi! Why didn't you tell us that ivy would be more of an adopted child than a houseplant?" he demanded, but his face remained friendly. Severus knew that Harry loved Curtis as much as anyone else.

Neville laughed. "I did try to warn you," he said.

"I really don't think you did," he said. "Not adequately at least."

"I told you," Neville replied patiently, raising his voice to be heard over the music, "that he was a clingy little match-maker." He smirked then, an expression he must have picked up from Pansy. "So I take it he got his tendrils around you both?"

Harry paused. "Well, yeah, he did." He glanced over at Severus. "But that's not a bad thing."

"So, Severus," Pansy said, cutting in, her bold red lips setting off her pale skin dramatically. "I heard you stole Ginny Weasley's man." She looked down at her pointed fingernails, her other hand loosely looped around Neville's arm.

"I stole nothing," he said haughtily, the old Slytherin mannerisms coming back to him in an instant. "He deserves far better than her." It wasn't worth mentioning that he thought Harry deserved better than him as well. It really wasn't even worth thinking. Harry deserved exactly what he wanted; he was only grateful that what he wanted was Severus Snape.

Pansy smiled back at him, a genuine smile that time. "You're not wrong," she said smoothly. "He always has. Take good care of him, Snape." She and Neville turned to head into the crowd when she noticed the music and cocked her head slightly. "The Ramones," she said, turning back, grinning, to face them. "You're alright, Severus."

Mundungus did show up with Pormetha and Asteryn, but he seemed to be on his best behaviour. Severus didn't throw a single stinging hex at him all evening. And he probably wouldn't have no matter what. The peaceful cheer of Christmas seemed to have wormed its way into even his cold heart.

Perhaps there really was something magical about the holiday, because Severus was honestly happy, even amidst so many people. Everyone was filled with good cheer and good ale, everyone was laughing and dancing, merry and carefree. And for the first time in his life, Severus was one of them.

"Oh, you have to dance with me for this!" Harry said, pulling him onto the Wizarding space dancefloor they'd constructed just for the party. When the first notes of Last Christmas by Wham! came on, he started to pull away, but Harry dragged him back.

"This one, Harry? Really??" he moaned, but he grabbed at Harry's hips anyway, pulling him close. 

"This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to someone special," Harry sang and Severus suddenly understood. He drew Harry even closer, placing a kiss on his jawline, vowing to always save him from tears.

Reaching up, Harry tucked Severus' black hair behind his ear then paused. "You've already got your ears pierced!" he exclaimed, pushing the hair back on the other side of Severus' head.

Laughing out loud, he pulled Harry's arms around him again. "I am a man of mystery, Potter," he intoned. "You should get used to that."

"So mysterious," Harry muttered, "you're really just an old softie."

"Only for you," Severus said, planting another kiss on lips.

The entire evening was a whirlwind for Severus and he truthfully loved every moment of it. He and Harry dissolved into laughter when Burvis and Bodhi began grinding to Mariah Carey. At some point, Draco Malfoy came in wearing a spangly red dress and a large blonde wig, laughing and hugging Pansy and Neville. 

"See, Sev," Harry had whispered in his ear. "He's really not my type."

Severus laughed and squeezed his hand. He could agree with that, but he was happy for Draco. It hadn't been easy for him in the post-war world, so it was good that he'd found some joy, a way to express himself.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously when Ginny came in, but she only hugged Harry and handed him a house key. 

Harry squeezed her hand and wished her a happy Christmas and she turned to leave, no drama. Pausing as she passed Severus, she said "Hurt him and I'll kill you."

He smiled down at her. Whatever else she'd done, he could understand the desire to protect Harry Potter. "I've no intention of it, Miss Weasley," he said. "But if it happens, I shall welcome my death at your hands."

She nodded and a small sad smile played on her lips. "Good," she said, then made her way out of the door.

Throughout the night, there were streams of Harry's friends and people that he'd met and none of them seemed to be anything less than pleased that Harry had found happiness after all this time. It was nothing like Severus had expected. It was so much better.

In the end, when the last guest had departed, he stood beside Harry just outside the pub. He lit a cigarette and passed it over, then lit another for himself. The air was cold and crisp, but Harry's hand in his was warm.

The bells on Diagon Alley rang out, but they did not bother Severus Snape. They sounded like hope, like joy, like risk and reward. They sounded like magic.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Severus said softly, wondering if he'd ever genuinely said that to anyone before.

"Happy Christmas, Sev," Harry grinned crookedly over at him. Smoke curled around their heads as the lights on the Alley began to go out for the night. "You wanna make me some eggs?" he asked.


End file.
